


In Darkest Knights, The Brightest Sparks

by CanonConvergence18



Series: Welcome to Harleyland: We have cookies! [1]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Batman: The Animated Series
Genre: Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Falling In Love, Friendship, Mental Health Issues, Slow Burn, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-30
Updated: 2020-01-02
Packaged: 2020-03-29 15:07:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 40
Words: 123,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19022392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CanonConvergence18/pseuds/CanonConvergence18
Summary: Following her release from Arkham Asylum, Harleen Quinzel develops an unlikely friendship with the Dark Knight, one that soon becomes something more.





	1. The Dress

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first attempt at a Batman fanfic. I was inspired by a combination of The Animated Series, White Knight by Sean Murphy (which if you haven't already, you should definitely read), and a general desire to make Harley Quinn a more dynamic character than she's typically portrayed. I didn't write this with any particular continuity in mind, and I'll reference several as it suits the purposes of the story. On the whole I'm going for a slightly gentler take on the characters than recent media. This isn't to disparage Nolan, Snyder, or the Arkham games, I'm just aiming for something a little different.
> 
> I'll post as inspiration strikes, and I hope you all enjoy reading!

She was wearing the dress he’d given her.

It was light pink and simple, hardly worth the trouble it had caused.  It had only cost thirty dollars, but it clearly meant a lot to her.  She’d worn it the day she was released from Arkham, and again during the job interview at Wayne Enterprises, both courtesy of Veronica Vreeland’s good word.

He had watched both events, the first from the shadows of the Asylum as Batman, the second as Bruce Wayne, sitting in his office.  Now he perched on a nearby rooftop, paying careful attention to the former super criminal as she moved through her small apartment, looking for signs that she was anything other than a model tenant.  Very few of his nemeses had ever truly reformed, and Harley had already reverted once.  But everything appeared totally normal, no guns or bats or joker paraphernalia of any kind.  The scans he ran from afar also revealed no signs of “regular” illegal substances like drugs, aside from the ones prescribed by her doctor at Arkham.  Even her knives appeared to be unsharpened.

Only once he’d checked and double checked that there were no traps or other potential indications of danger, did he glide down and alight gently on the narrow ledge of her window.  It was already open, but he closed it softly as he stepped inside.  The apartment was miniscule, barely bigger than her cell at Arkham.  A kitchenette adorned one side of the room, a twin sized bed another, with a door leading to an equally tiny bathroom.  The walls were mostly bare, save for a single houseplant that he had scanned multiple times, in case it was one of Ivy’s.

Harley herself was near the kitchen at a little two person table whose rickety leg was being propped up by a newspaper.  She was cradling a mug of tea, and despite the fact that he’d made no noise when entering, she perked up as he approached.

“I was wonderin’ if you’d actually show,” she said brightly, not looking around.

He moved to stand next to her. “Gordon said you wanted to see me.”

“Yeah I did.  Wanna have a seat?” She motioned to the other side of the tiny table.

He hesitated, not liking that it would put his back to her apartment door.  But before he could decline, she rolled her eyes and stood, shifting both chairs so that his had a view of both the window and the door.  She reseated herself and looked up at him expectantly.  Somewhat reluctantly, he lowered himself into the worn wooden chair.

“I’d offer you somethin’ to drink, but I’m guessin’ you wouldn’t go for that,” she said with a little smile.

The statement didn’t require response, so he didn’t give one, instead opting to study her up close.  For the most part she looked perfectly normal; a pretty, if somewhat nondescript woman in her mid to late thirties with very little to hint at her checkered past.

However, the hints of Harley Quinn were still there for those who were looking, from the way that she had skipped out of Arkham, to the somewhat informal manner of speech she retained, and the tips of her ponytails that she’d left frosted in black and red.  More than anything though, it was the lines around her mouth, and the somewhat distant look in her eyes that gave a sense that there was something more to her.

He got the abrupt feeling that she was studying him just as closely as he was her.  Those intense, bright blue eyes were searching the unmasked portions of his face as if looking for something.  He reminded himself that once upon a time, she had been a talented, if inexperienced psychologist.  Her instabilities had hampered those gifts for years, but who knew what she saw now that she was away from the Joker’s influence.  Best to be cautious.

He decided to probe a bit, get a sense of her state of mind. “How are you adjusting?”

She shrugged. “Pretty decent.  Haven’t robbed anyone yet.” She smirked to let him know it was a joke. “Veronica helped me get a job.  Nothin’ too fancy, just data entry with a Wayne business.  But you probably knew that already.”

Indeed he had.  Veronica had come to Bruce, asking if he could help out her unlikely friend.  He was quite willing but had to play reluctant at first.  In the end he’d pretended to cave and set up a meeting with a Wayne Enterprises hiring officer.  He’d also surreptitiously intervened when the HR representative had nearly rejected Harley, put off by the prospect of hiring someone so notorious.  Lucius had been sent to gently remind the staffer that Wayne Enterprises did not discriminate on the basis of prior felonies.  In the eyes of the law, Harleen Quinzel was fully rehabilitated.

None of which he was about to reveal to Harley.

“Are they treating you well?” he asked.  He’d kept a very close eye on her from the moment she started, and while there hadn’t been any incidents, even he couldn’t monitor everything.

“I think they’re scared of me,” she replied with a tinge of sadness. “They don’t really like talkin’ to me.  Mostly I keep to myself.”

He felt obliged to comfort her, partly out of sympathy, but mostly concern for what might happen if she snapped. “Give it time.  They’ll adjust.”

She gave a little shake of her head, as if to say it didn’t really matter, but otherwise didn’t respond.  They lapsed into silence, Harley occasionally taking a sip of her tea.  For his part, Bruce was feeling unusually awkward.  Very few individuals, including Gordon, displayed as much comfort in his presence as Harley, who looked quite at ease.  She made no attempt to break the silence, undermining his most effective tool of interrogation.  Most people, criminals or otherwise, became increasingly nervous being stared down by a large, silent man in an armored bat costume.

Not Harley, though.  She appeared content to let them sit there until the sun rose.  Which meant if anything were to happen, he’d have to move it along.  Acknowledging that she’d won this round, he finally spoke.

“What did you want to tell me?  Do you have more information about the Joker?”

She frowned. “I already told you everything I knew.”

And it had been a considerable amount.  From stockpiles of weapons, explosives, and cash, to information on who Joker was blackmailing, and even the myriad ways he’d managed to circumvent Arkham security.  The idea that Harley might turn on him had clearly never occurred to the Joker.  While Bruce doubted he’d shared everything, what she knew had been enough to cripple Joker’s impressive criminal enterprise.

In the three years since Harley’s change of heart, Joker had not managed a single escape from Arkham.  Even if he eventually did, he’d find himself having to start virtually from scratch, with very few resources left to him.  He was also no longer able to bankroll high powered lawyers to stall psychiatric recommendations such as restraint or medical treatments.  He was, in fact, much subdued these days.

“What is it then?” he asked, beginning to lose patience with whatever game she was playing.

Harley glanced down at the table, looking uncharacteristically shy. “I wanted to thank you.  For the dress.”

He scowled in confusion. “The dress?”

She kept staring at the mug in her hands. “It helped.  During the bad days.  Whenever I wanted to kick the crap outta some idiot or run back to Mistah J, Dr. Leeland would have me put on the dress.  As a reminder, you know?  Not to give up.

“So, thanks.  For not givin’ up on me.”

Bruce's expression softened. “You’re welcome.  You know there will still be bad days?  Days that feel impossible.  You have to be ready for them.”

Harley nodded. “I know.  I take my meds.  And I got Veronica.  We get coffee once a week and chat.  And you, right?” She looked hopefully at him.

Knowing how important his response might be and that she had very little else, he gave her the barest ghost of a smile that she returned threefold.  After a moment, he stood.

“Is there anything else?”

She looked up at him. “Would’ya mind comin’ back sometimes?  Just to chat?”

He didn’t normally make house calls to former felons, but her expression was so open and vulnerable that he found himself nodding before he thought better of it.

“Yay!” She leapt up and wrapped him in a huge hug that he was too shocked to avoid or return. “Thanks, Bats!” she said, standing back and beaming. “Now shoo!  Go catch the bad guys or whatever.”

He fled out the window before she changed her mind and plied him with some other request.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone on whom the dress references were lost, this comes from the episode of The Animated Series titled "Harley's Holiday." It's a favorite of mine, and I highly recommend it!


	2. Waiting, Watching, Laughing

Harley dragged a weary hand across her eyes.  The clock on the wall above their cubicles had been stubbornly stuck at 2:35pm for what felt like three hours.  She had to resist the urge every few minutes to go and check whether it was still working, or just throw something heavy at it.  Instead she forced herself to focus on the spreadsheets of data staring back at her from the monitor.  For some reason the numbers hadn’t analyzed themselves while she wasn’t looking.

This was better, she reminded herself.  Better than running from cops.  Better than hiding in dingy warehouses, waiting for a masked terror to crash through the ceiling.  Better than the Joker, with his mood swings and violent outbursts.  Better than cracking the skull of whichever one of his thugs got up the nerve to grab her ass that night.

Better than lifting that Rolex off her supervisor’s wrist on the way out and fencing it for a few thousand on the way home…

She groaned and did her best to crush the thought.  That was something she and Dr. Leeland hadn’t expected.  Certain impulses, like the desire to beat the hell out of the woman in the cubicle next to her for wearing such a noxious perfume, had been anticipated and were somewhat easier to deal with.  But she hadn’t realized how much the tedium would get to her.  The day in/day out doing the same thing.

Routine had served her well in the Asylum, it gave her structure.  Out here that same structure grated on instincts built up by years spent under the Joker’s influence.  Each day was a struggle to counter those instincts with reminders of why she’d turned on Joker in the first place.

If only she were wearing the dress today.  If she were wearing the dress, it’d be easier to remember _why_ staying in control mattered.  It’d give her something tangible to focus on.  Sadly, there was only one dress, and seven days in the week.  She just had to grit her teeth, deal with it, and try not to fantasize about dropping her computer monitor over the side of the cubicle onto her coworker.

When the clock finally inched its way to 5:00pm, Harley did her best not to rush for the exit, knowing that most of the people she worked with would love any excuse to get rid of her.  She still had no idea how she’d gotten hired.  She knew Veronica had helped arrange the interview, but an interview was a long way from a job offer.  While she didn’t much care what the schmucks she worked with thought of her, she didn’t want to let Veronica down by wasting this opportunity.

After an hour train ride back to the Narrows, stopping at the gym to let off some steam on a punching bag, and picking up food from a dreary little grocery store, she finally arrived home.  She wasn’t sure what exactly she’d do; she didn’t have enough money saved up to afford a TV or books yet, so entertainment options were limited.  As she was unlocking the various deadbolts to her apartment door, she resigned herself to another night of filling in half finished crossword puzzles in papers she’d scrounged from the sidewalk.  When she stepped inside however, she realized she wouldn’t have to worry tonight.

She knew he was there.  He’d closed the window behind him like a gentleman and the lights were off, but she still felt it; a subtle change that signaled when he entered the room.  Once upon a time it would have sent a chill of fear up her spine.  Now it brought a smile to her face.

“I thought maybe you weren’t comin’ back,” she told the darkness.

The darkness replied, “I said I would.”

“Technically you didn’t say anything.  You just nodded.”

Silence.

Harley gave a long-suffering sigh that was mostly for show and turned on the apartment’s single, flickering light bulb, revealing a brooding, caped figure standing next to the apartment’s single, dingy window.  Even though she’d seen it with her own eyes a couple weeks ago, she wasn’t quite sure how he fit himself through it.  He just seemed too big to manage.  Then again, she’d watched him wriggle his way out of everything from ropes to chains to a damn straight jacket, so maybe she shouldn’t be surprised.

She moved over to the narrow kitchen counter and began depositing bags. “Been waitin’ long?”

There was the slightest rustle as he moved closer.  She knew that was probably intentional; he never made noise when he didn’t want to. “I followed you from the train.”

“Keepin’ an eye on me, huh?” she remarked as she stowed away a pack of wilted lettuce and some sad looking carrots. “Making sure I don’t get into trouble.”

His response was a moment in coming. “This isn’t the safest neighborhood.”

She let out a snort of uncontrollable laughter and looked over at him. “That’s what you’re worried about?  Me getting’ home safely?  Not the extortion racket I’ve set up on the block?”

All she got was that stony, expressionless scowl he was so good at.  She rolled her eyes. “Lighten up, Bats, it was a joke.  I may not be a jester no more, but I can still laugh a little.”

She went back to unloading her groceries, still giggling under her breath. “Have a seat if you wanna.  Unless you got some other blonde felons to check up on.”

There was a pause, then the sound of wood scraping vinyl.  She couldn’t help smiling even more widely at the noise and took a little longer than necessary putting the rest of her shopping away to give her time to compose herself.

“You want somethin’ to drink this time?” she asked when she was finished.

Another pause.  Then, to her surprise, “Do you have anything herbal?”

She cast a surprised glance over her shoulder.  Batman sat in the same spot at the table as before, hands clasped in front of him. “Really?  I’da figured you for a caffeine addict, what with the whole nocturnal thing.”

He shook his head minutely. “Caffeine throws me off.  Makes me jittery.”

“Huh.” She turned back to the kettle. “Gotta tell ya, there’s some folks who’d love to know that.  Anythin’ to get an edge on the Big Bad Bat.  Lucky for you I got some peppermint here.”

A few minutes later she slid a chipped mug across the table to him. “Not sure what you’re used to,” she said, feeling strangely nervous. “I can’t afford the best stuff these days.”

“It’s fine,” he replied shortly, picking up the mug and blowing gently to cool it.

The sight of the great vigilante crime fighter sitting in her tiny apartment, at her rickety secondhand table, blowing steam off a mug, sent her into another fit of giggles.  Batman looked at her cautiously, which made her giggle harder while trying to provide an explanation that would prevent him carting her back to Arkham.

“You just got…no idea…what this is like…for someone like me!” she said, hiccupping as she tried to suppress her laughter. “I mean, your sittin’ here, drinkin’ tea with me!  It’s so mundane!”

He scowled and replied by taking a sip of tea that was likely far too hot to drink yet.  Of course, he didn’t let any discomfort show, and she lapsed into the occasional chuckle.

“Ya know, a lotta folks wonder if you’re even human,” she remarked. “Ivy thought maybe you were some kinda robot.”

His scowl was now one of puzzlement. “That’s ridiculous.”

She shrugged. “That’s what I said, but you gotta admit not a lot of regular people do what you do.  Easier to think you’re a metahuman or somethin’ than imagine an ordinary guy takin’ us down like you.”

He seemed to have no response to that, and she continued. “Joker used to tell the boys that you were part vampire bat and would drink their blood if you caught ‘em.  I think it made him laugh watchin’ ‘em run away from you.”

“But not you?”

“Nope.” She shook her head. “I mean, you were scary an’ all, but I knew you were a person.  Too single-minded to be anything else.  I’m guessin’ some kinda childhood trauma?  Lost a parent or somethin’ like that?”

He went so still he might as well have been carved from stone.

“Yeah,” she said with a sigh. “That’s not a big surprise.  It’s always trauma with the real scary ones.”

They drank their tea in silence for a while.  To her slight surprise, he was the one to break it.  She’d figured that silence not of his making would cause him some discomfort, but she thought he’d have adjusted quicker.  It still seemed to bug him though.

“What should I call you?” he asked.

She looked up from her mug. “Whaddya mean?”

“Do you prefer Harleen or Harley?” he clarified.

“Hm.” She frowned. “I don’t think anyone’s asked me that yet.  I guess Harley.  It was a nickname before all of this happened.  I’m tryin’ to hold on to that.”

He acknowledged that with the barest fraction of a nod.  They were both saved having to figure out something else to say by a loud rumble from her stomach.

“Guess I should fix myself something to eat,” she said with a laugh, standing. “Any chance, you stayin’ for dinner?”

Batman stood with her. “I can’t,” he said shortly.

She nodded her acceptance of that, knowing they’d get there sooner or later. “Alright then.  Don’t be a stranger now.”

She turned away, feeling the gentle rustle of the breeze as he opened the window and departed.  Only once she was sure he had gone did she allow the smile she’d been holding back to stretch wide across her face.


	3. The Deal

Bruce tried to convince himself that he kept going back to visit Harley because he was bored.  The last few years had been kind to Gotham, and most of the supervillains were locked up in Arkham.  Those who hadn’t were generally lying low.  Ra’s al Ghul remained true to his word and hadn’t interfered with Gotham since resurrecting Jason.  Freeze had departed for the frozen reaches of the Arctic, where he could conduct his research in solitude.  Normal crime was down, and he sometimes went entire nights without getting into a single fight.

Of course, if he was being honest with himself, there was always something to do if he looked hard enough.  In a city as big as Gotham, someone was always in trouble, and while the cops were certainly equipped to handle burglaries, assaults, and break ins on their own, a little assistance never hurt.  Time spent with Harley was time not spent on the streets.

He consoled himself with the reminder that he wasn’t the only masked vigilante around.  Tim had grown into just as talented a crime fighter as Dick, and Oracle would notify him at once if Tim got in over his head.  Still, he struggled to rationalize his now regular visits to a certain apartment in the Narrows.

Ironically, he was forced to acknowledge the real reason he kept going back the night he was handed a perfect justification for the time he spent with Harley.

They’d established a signal of sorts, albeit one that wasn’t as sophisticated as the floodlight on top of GCPD.  If she was interested in having company, the blinds would be open on her window.  If she wasn’t, they’d be closed.

They were usually open.

He didn’t bother trying to be silent as he pulled himself into her apartment, he was too exhausted for games tonight.  Harley was lying on her bed, reading a book, and didn’t look up as he dropped into his usual seat at her table.  The place was looking homier these days.  A couple worn but clean rugs adorned the floor now, and a small bookshelf filled with surprisingly new books sat next to the bed.

“Bit late, even for you, Bats,” she remarked.

He didn’t respond, knowing her well enough by now to recognize that she was teasing him.  He was used to being made fun of in his foppish public persona as Bruce Wayne, billionaire playboy, but he had no idea how to handle being teased as Batman.  It was one of many odd experiences being around Harleen Quinzel.

Eventually he heard her set down the book and hop off the bed to join him.  When she rounded the table and got a good look at him, she raised an eyebrow.

“Rough night, huh?” she inquired. “Didn’t feel like seein’ a doc first?”

It had indeed been a rough night.  A row of thin cuts ran along his left arm, and the side of his face was bruised from where he’d collided with a wall.  Harley could see all that for herself, and again he didn’t say anything.  She was right though, he probably should have gone to see Alfred instead of coming here, but he was too tired to examine that thought in depth.

After examining him for a moment, she sighed. “Get your arm outta the suit.  I’ll be right back.”

He looked at her in confusion as she disappeared briefly into the bathroom.  He heard running water, then she emerged a minute later with a first aid kit.  She frowned when she saw that he hadn’t done as she’d instructed.

“I can’t stitch you up with the suit on.” Her tone was reminiscent of a schoolteacher speaking to a troublesome child. “Take it off.”

The idea of Harley Quinn treating his injuries was bizarre enough to make him hesitate.  There wasn’t a whole lot she could do to him with just a needle and thread, but it was usually better to be safe.

“Look,” Harley said, starting to lose patience, “it don’t really matter to me if you wanna pass out from blood loss, but I just bought this rug, and I’m not gonna have you bleed all over it.  So if you wanna stay, you gotta let me clean you up.  Otherwise, there’s the window.”

After debating her ultimatum, he slowly extracted his left arm from the sleeve of his suit.  For good measure, he took out the right one as well and wrapped both sleeves around his waist, knowing from experience that fighting with random bits of fabric flopping around was not the easiest thing in the world.  He left the gloves on, not wanting to leave accidental fingerprints in the house of a former super criminal.

If Harley found any of these choices odd she gave no sign of it as she knelt next to him and opened the kit.  Now that he got a proper look at it, the word kit seemed inadequate.  If anything, it looked more like the trauma bags that paramedics carried.  Gauze, bandages, disinfectants, painkillers and a host of other medical accoutrements were laid out in neat, organized rows.

Harley put on a pair of gloves and set to work cleaning the cuts.  She moved with all the confidence of a trained medical professional, which, Bruce reminded himself, she was.  Dual PhD/MD with a concentration in Neuropsychology.  She might not be licensed anymore, but it didn’t take someone of her caliber to stitch up a few cuts. 

“You got lucky,” she said once the wounds were clean enough to examine clearly. “Fairly shallow; doesn’t look like they hit anything important.”

He had enough experience with these kinds of wounds to know that instinctively, but he appreciated her confirming it all the same.  He barely even noticed when she applied iodine.

“So who was it?  Just outta curiosity?” she asked. “I’m guessin’ Croc?”

He shook his head. “Riddler.  A razor maze.”

Riddler had been one of the few supervillains to avoid capture on recent years and continued to taunt Batman with puzzles and obstacle courses of ever bewildering complexity.

That didn’t faze her in the slightest. “You got the double jackpot then.  Old Eddie’s a real germaphobe; those were probably the cleanest razors you’ll ever run across.  If it were Croc you’d be needin’ more antibiotics than we got in the whole of Gotham.”

For once she wasn’t joking.  Croc carried bacteria they didn’t even have names for yet.

Harley kept talking, as was her habit. “What was it like, anyway?  I always wanted to see one of Eddie’s crazy death mazes.”

He debated not telling her but decided there was no harm in it.  Briefly, he recounted the labyrinth the Riddler had made him navigate to rescue the daughter of a cop he’d abducted.

“I keep waiting for the day he comes up with a game I won’t be able to beat,” Bruce admitted softly, almost to himself, as he finished.

Harley was silent as she worked on threading the needle through the cuts on his arm.  She appeared lost in thought.

“Did the room with the hostage have an outside wall?”

He frowned, not seeing the point of the question. “Yes.  Two.  It was at the corner of the building.”

“Why didn’t you just blow out the wall with that rolling tank you call a motorcycle?  You coulda just swooped in an’ pulled her out.”

The suggestion brought him up short. “It…didn’t occur to me,” he admitted.

She nodded. “I figured.  Too busy tryin’ to beat Eddie at his own game.”

He looked at her sharply. “What do you mean?”

She paused in her work and met his gaze. “You know his diagnosis, right?”

“Narcissistic psychopathy and severe antisocial personality disorder with a possibility of autism spectrum disorder.” He left out that he had personally suggested significant portions of the diagnosis.

“He needs attention, yeah?  He’s got something to prove?” Bruce nodded his agreement. “So why are you giving it to him?”

It was like she was speaking another language. “You think I should just leave his hostages to die?”

She rolled her eyes. “No, dumbass, I’m sayin’, you should outthink him.  Find some way to save people that doesn’t involve messin’ around with his crazy traps.  Use your brain.  I’m bettin’ you didn’t even stop to think when you found his latest place, didja?  You probably just charged right in.”

Bruce looked away, not wanting to tell her how right she was.  He was unused to feeling like the dumb one in the room; it was extremely off putting.  A problem with her suggestion did occur to him though.

“He’d just adapt his approach, and we’d be right back where we started.”

“Initially, for sure,” she agreed. “But up to a point.  Eddie’s creative, within his own limitations.  From what I’ve seen, you got way more resources to throw at a problem than he does.  Confuse him, overwhelm him, ‘til he can’t keep up with you.  Stop lettin’ him dictate everything.”

She went back to stitching while Bruce stared off into nothing, pondering her words.  It was true he usually ran straight at Riddler’s games, solving through brute force what he should have been handling with ingenuity. 

Harley announced she was done and slapped a bandage over the stitched-up cuts, shaking him out of his musings.  He slipped his arms gingerly back into his suit while Harley briskly cleaned up.  Afterwards, she spent a minute washing her hands, then turned to tea while Bruce continued to think over their conversation.

He eyed her critically as she finished with the tea and pushed a mug across to him.  The calculating part of his mind, the one always looking for an edge, was running a mile a minute.

This didn’t go unnoticed by Harley.  She set down her mug with a definitive sort of thunk and met his gaze steadily.

“Alright, out with it,” she demanded. “What do you want?”

He contemplated various approaches before deciding to just be open. “I could use your help.”

“No.”

 Her refusal, so abrupt, and so firm, threw him off. “You didn’t hear what I was going to ask.”

She waved a dismissive hand. “I know what you want.  You were gonna ask me to do some psycho-analytic mumbo jumbo on all the other freaks you like to dance with.  Get inside their heads and help you take ‘em down.  That about right?” He nodded, struggling to keep his expression passive.

“No dice, bucko.” She sat back in her chair, expression stony. “I’ll give ya the bit about Riddler for free, but I ain’t real interested in your world.  Been there done that.  Didn’t get much out of it.”

He tried to think of some argument to convince her, but for the surprising amount of time they’d spent together, he still didn’t know a whole lot about Harley. “You would help a lot of people,” he said eventually, hoping to appeal to her better nature.

“You sure about that?” she shot back. “You coulda helped a lotta people if you’d dropped Joker off a building instead of lettin’ him run around all these years.  Excuse me if I don’t totally trust your sense of what’s good for folks.  Like I said, what’s in it for me if I help you?”

“Redemption?” he offered.

She snorted. “Ain’t no such thing.  You don’t get to balance out the things I’ve done.”

“Then why did you help us take down Joker?” he asked quietly.

“Simple.  Revenge.” There was an angry, fierce gleam in her eye he hadn’t even seen during her days as Harley Quinn. “That motherfucker destroyed my life.  He took everything I was and twisted it until I was just his plaything.  You get it?  He unmade me, and had me thinkin’ it’s what I wanted!  I’ve spent the last three years tryin’ to pick up the pieces of what he did to me.  If I coulda killed him and gotten away with it, I would’ve in a SECOND!”

She stood, her chair toppling behind her, but she didn’t seem to notice. “If I couldn’t suffocate the life outta him, at least I could take down everything else.  He used to laugh about how it was so much easier to destroy what other people created.  Well it took him years to build his little empire.  But it only took me a half-hour to take it all down!  THAT’S why I did it!  Not for you, or your war, or _redemption_!  It was so I could see the look on his face when found out what I did to him!  ME!  His stupid!  Little!  Incompetent!  HARLEY!”

At the last word, she turned, and aimed an extremely professional punch at the window; one that would surely have broke through the thin pane, and likely torn her hand to pieces if Bruce hadn’t caught her wrist an inch from landing.

Breathing heavily, Harley blinked and looked around as if she’d forgotten where she was.  She took in Batman standing next to her, restraining her lightly, her toppled chair, and the tea she’d spilled from her mug.

“Aw, fuck,” she muttered, sagging limply.

Bruce let her go and guided her gently back to her chair, which he righted.  She slumped in it, resting her head in her hands wearily.  He waited a few moments to see her reaction before speaking.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly.

Harley looked up at him and sighed, running a hand through her hair. “Look, I know ya mean well, but I’m not lookin’ to join up with your little family.  I had my fill of jumpin’ across rooftops in tights, beatin’ people up.  I’m just tryin’ to get by.”

He nodded. “I understand.  I won’t ask again.” As he said the words, he let the flame that had flared in his chest slowly flicker.  The idea of setting Harley’s considerable talents against his enemies had given him hope that maybe the endless battles could be finally put to rest.  But to do so would require exploiting a tired, broken woman who had been exploited far too much already.

He thought he was schooled enough not to let any of that disappointment show on his face, but Harley seemed to catch a bit of his mood anyway.  Her expression softened, and she took a long, deep breath that puffed out her cheeks.

“Alright, I’ll make you a deal, Bats,” she said, appearing to steel herself. “I’ll give you three.  Three times where I’ll help you figure out what makes someone tick. But-!” she cut him off as he opened his mouth to speak. “But, I’ve got a some conditions.”

She raised a hand and started ticking them off on her fingers. “First, you only get three, and I ain’t budging on that once you’ve used ‘em up.  So you better make sure you know who you wanna ask about.  Got it?” She waited until he nodded before continuing. “Second, I get to decide where, when, and if you get to cash in, alright?  You can ask, but if I don’t feel like it, don’t push.” Again he nodded. “Alright, third, and this one’s important so pay attention.

“For each wacko I psychoanalyze, you gotta answer one question about yourself honestly.”

The first two conditions made sense, and he was fully prepared to agree, but the third hit like a smack in the face.

“What?”

Harley smirked at his surprise. “You heard me.  You want me to spend time splashin’ around in a psycho’s head?  Well I want somethin’ in return.  I wanna know more about you.  I get to ask whatever I want, and you gotta answer.”

The request baffled him as much as it concerned him. “Why?”

She shrugged. “I’m curious.  No one knows much of anything about you.  And you need to get how serious this is for me.”

Bruce took a long time to think about it.  Agreeing had the potential to put a lot of people he cared about in danger, for he was almost positive what one of her three questions would be.  If word got out that Bruce Wayne was Batman, everything he did would be compromised.  He’d be dragged in to the police, at bare minimum.  The Wayne board would likely strip him of his voting rights and fire Lucius for aiding him with WayneTech.  Criminals would immediately target Alfred, Tim, and Dick.  In all likelihood, he’d end up in a cell in Arkham himself.  After all, who dresses up like a bat to fight crime?

But the prospect of greater insight into his foes was too tempting to pass up.

“Whatever I tell you stays between us,” he said. “Nothing leaves this room.”

She gave him a skeptical smile. “Who am I gonna tell?  I only got one other friend, and Veronica could care less about the Batman.”

Bruce reflected that she’d be a lot more interested if she knew who he was but held back from saying that. “Your word,” he insisted.

She laughed. “What’s my word mean to you?” But he didn’t relent, and she sighed dramatically and raised a hand. “Fine!  I solemnly promise that whatever secrets are shared with me will henceforth never be passed to another soul so long as I live, yada yada.  We got a deal?”

He thought about it for a moment longer, but knew he had to agree.

“Deal,” he said with a sense of finality.

“Shake on it?” She offered a hand.

Trying not to shake his head in exasperation, he reached across the table and clasped her hand.  She shook jovially, a bright smile on her face.

He spent the entirety of the trip back to Batcave wondering what made him willing to trust Harley Quinn to such an extent.  From a practical perspective, the potential good from soliciting her help was far greater than the potential harm.  Fallout could be mitigated, public opinion managed, resources protected, allies shielded.  But he kept getting the nagging sense that the practical elements were the whole reason he’d agreed to her deal, and he couldn’t figure out what else was driving it.

The sun was just beginning to peak over the horizon when he arrived at the tunnel leading to the Batcave.  Alfred was waiting for him as the Batpod squealed to a hault.

“Good evening, sir,” he greeted Bruce as he swung a tired leg off the vehicle. “Or morning as it were.  Was it a fruitful night?”

“Somewhat,” Bruce replied, beginning to struggle out of the tattered suit. “I found Officer Donnelly’s daughter.  Got her out safely, but no sign of Riddler.”

“I’m sure you’ll locate him before long,” Alfred said calmly as he helped Bruce peel off the suit.

“I have some ideas about that, actually.” Bruce groaned as the movement stretched his injured arm. “We’ll contact Oracle tomorrow.  Or today.  Whatever.” He sank onto the nearest chair once he was free of the Batsuit. 

Alfred peered interestedly at the bandage on Bruce’s arm. “It looks as though you’ve already received medical attention.  That’s a first.  One of Gordon’s medics, I presume?”

Bruce shook his head. “Harley.”

The look Alfred gave him bordered on panic. “You let that woman tend to you?  You can’t be serious, Master Bruce!”

“She is a doctor, Alfred,” Bruce reminded him.

“All the more reason not to let her within a mile of you.” Alfred peeled back the bandage to peer at the stitches. “Who knows what kind of damage she could inflict.  Remember Hush?”

“I kept an eye on her while she was doing it,” Bruce said. “I’m not totally incompetent.”

“Hmph.  Well, she seems to have done a decent job at least,” Alfred said, pressing the bandage back on, “but please, Master Bruce, I’d feel much better if you let me take care of such things in the future.  Ms. Quinzel is a free woman, but I very much doubt she is completely stable.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Bruce said softly, thinking about her outburst. “Who is?”

Alfred peered at him closely, a concerned expression on his face. “You’ve been spending an awful lot of time with Ms. Quinzel of late.  Should I be worried, Master Bruce.”

“No, Alfred.” He was only half listening.  He’d just realized why he continued to visit her, and why he was willing to let her ask him whatever questions she wanted.  It was with some surprise that he finally admitted:

“I enjoy her company.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In keeping with the theme of this fic, I'm yanking random elements from whatever continuity I feel like. I've imported the concept of the Narrows from Nolan's films, and Ra's al Ghul's resurrection of Jason Todd references Under the Red Hood and some of the more recent comics.


	4. Recidivism

Another long day of staring at endless numbers and meaningless words on a computer screen at a job she was vastly overqualified for.  Another mind numbingly long train ride, with nothing to occupy her attention aside from increasingly dilapidated buildings.  Another walk down trash filled streets, doing her best to ignore catcalls and whistles from junkies, gangbangers, and old men with nothing better to do.

Harley wished she had the money for a smart phone to entertain her, but every spare cent that didn’t go into living expenses and savings went for books.  It had been years since she’d been able to read.  Joker didn’t like books; he’d mocked her every time she tried to read something.  And Arkham had closed most of its library after Zsasz managed to turn a home and garden book into a surprisingly effective shiv.  Harley had argued, quite forcefully that they shouldn’t all be punished for the actions of one deranged lunatic.  The Warden had countered with the, admittedly reasonable, argument that they were pretty much _all_ deranged lunatics, and others would surely follow Zsasz’s example.  The result being that she’d spent most of her time in Arkham in a state of perpetual boredom.

She’d mentioned as much to Veronica one afternoon, and her friend had promptly deposited a random assortment of novels, biographies, and other volumes into her arms.  The gesture had come as such a shock that she immediately dissolved into tears, and it had taken some time, after she’d composed herself, to assure Veronica that it was a wonderful gift.

In the weeks since, she’d devoured each book Veronica had given her, and every used paperback cheap enough for her to afford.  Unfortunately, as much as she’d like, it was impractical to take any reading material on her commute.  Reading made her motion sick on the train, and reading a book while walking through the Narrows was an open invitation to be robbed.  If she’d had some music or even a damn podcast, it might make the trip go a bit quicker.

Although, if she’d had earphones blasting music into her brain, she probably wouldn’t have heard the screams.

“HELP!  HELP! PLEASE SOMEONE HELP!”

Harley stopped walking abruptly.  It was a woman’s voice, loud and clear enough that she was probably very close.  She glanced around, but none of the other people walking the streets seemed to have taken any interest.  This wasn’t surprising; if you lived in the Narrows and didn’t get used to the sound of screaming, you’d quickly go insane.

She should just keep walking.  It wasn’t any of her business.  Dr. Leeland had told her to keep out of trouble and in two months, she’d managed to behave herself extremely well.  The last thing she needed was to get involved in anything vaguely crime related.

“OH GOD, SOMEONE PLEASE HELP!”

She could call the cops.  She didn’t have a phone, but there was a little store up the street.  She could tell the managers, and they’d call for help.

“STOP!  PLEASE STOP!”

Who would arrive just in time to collect the body.

“HEL-”

The latest scream was cut off, and before Harley realized it, she was marching with a purpose towards the source of the noise.  She told her legs to stop several times, but they seemed disinclined to listen to her.  Only once she’d rounded a bend in an alley and come upon a very familiar scene, did she finally reassert some control over her body.

Five men were arrayed around a single, battered looking woman.  The biggest had her pinned up against the wall of the alley, one of his hands covering her mouth to muffle her screams.  Her clothes were tattered, and the rest of her attackers were busy dividing up the contents of her purse, chuckling as they did.

It didn’t take a former criminal to grasp their intentions, and Harley had been witness to more than few such assaults in her time.  As always, the sight lit a fire in her chest.  Normally it was a dull sense of anger, one that she’d often been powerless to act on.  This time however, it burned hot, bringing a tinge of red to her vision.  Every fiber of her being longed to charge at these disgusting pigs and beat them to within an inch of their lives.

Still, she held back, knowing how this would look if the cops ever did show up.  She had a hard time imagining them believe the word of Harley Quinn.  Hell, they might just shoot her on sight.

Just then, the woman gave the slightest whimper.  The man holding her against the wall had torn open her dress.

Harley groaned. “You up there by any chance?” she asked, looking up at the tops of the darkened buildings.

Silence.

“Didn’t think so.” She steeled herself. “Fine then.  Fuck it.” At least she was wearing pants today.

The first asshole went down easy.  None of them were keeping a proper lookout; they knew that they had plenty of time before the authorities arrived.  More than enough to have their fun.  She walked right up behind him and kicked the back of his knee.  His leg buckled, and she seized his hair, yanking him down so his head hit the pavement with a sharp crack.

The other four looked around in shock at the noise.  That gave her a split second to kick another one hard in the balls.  He went down with an aborted gasp of pain, clutching his groin and writhing on the ground.

By then, the remaining three had recovered somewhat, the big guy letting go of their would-be victim so she crumpled against the alley wall, sobbing.  They formed a semi-circle around her, sizing her up.  None of them spoke, but they moved with the wariness of criminals who had been operation in Gotham long enough to know not to underestimate anyone, no matter how ordinary they looked.

They were clearly toughened survivors of many battles and were used to fighting as a group.  Instead of coming at her one or two at a time, like some of the idiots she’d fought over the years, they rushed her all at once, looking to overwhelm her with numbers.

Luckily, she’d been ready for just such a move and as they closed around her, she leapt.

Once upon a time, Harley could manage a nearly four-foot vertical jump.  Imprisonment and age had dulled her agility somewhat, but she still got a good three feet off the ground.  More than enough to tilt, plant her hands along the smallest thug’s shoulders, and use him to boost herself out of their midst.  She twisted in midair, landing facing the group.

The guy she’d used to help her vault stumbled, off balance.  She gave him a sharp kick, driving him into one of his friends, leaving her to face the third one-on-one.  He aimed a heavy punch at her face, and she turned, catching his wrist as it went by and pulling his arm straight, allowing her to deliver a sharp jab to the back of his elbow.  His arm broke with a crack and he fell to the ground shouting

Three down, two to go.

The remaining thugs had disentangled themselves and were now approaching her warily.  The smaller of the two seemed nervous to attack, but the big one who’d had the woman up against the wall was looking enraged.  With a yell clearly meant to frighten her, he charged, arms outstretched as if he intended to tackle her to ground.

She didn’t attempt another leap, knowing he’d be expecting such a maneuver.  Instead she caught one of his arms as he neared, turning and leveraging him over her shoulder.  He obviously hadn’t expected her to hold her ground and hit the floor of the alley heavily.  She crouched down, pinning his arms to the pavement with her legs and punched him in the face, splattering his nose against his cheek.

It felt good.  So, she did it again.

And again.

And again.

She kept hitting him, vaguely aware that she was screaming as she did so.  Her hand was burning, and he was more than subdued, his face a bloody mess, but she didn’t stop.  The only thing that mattered to her was pummeling this brutal pig into the next century with her bare hands.

Suddenly a pair hands clamped around her arms and hauled her off the object of her anger.  She tried to spin around, to turn her rage on this new assailant, but those unbelievably strong hands held her firm.

“Harley!  Calm down, it’s over!”

She barely recognized where she was, and she couldn’t even put a face or name to that voice, but there was something familiar about it, something soothing.  She stopped struggling and went limp in the iron grip.  Only once whoever it was seemed confident she wouldn’t start fighting again did they let her go.

Turning, Harley saw a now familiar masked face looking down at her in concern.  She leaned back against the alley wall, anger draining out of her to be replaced by a numb exhaustion.

“Nice of you to show up,” she muttered. “Couple minutes sooner woulda been better.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, and as far as she could tell, he genuinely meant it. “I was on my way.”

“Course you were.” She wiped the hand that wasn’t stinging across her sweaty forehead and looked at the various injured men lying on the alley floor.  She frowned when she counted four. “Where’s the last guy?  You string him up somewhere?”

Batman glanced around too. “There were only four when I got here.  You must have scared the other one off.”

That didn’t surprise her.  She imagined the sight of her beating the other four to a bloody pulp had probably spooked the remaining thug.  Criminals in Batman’s Gotham had long ago learned that discretion was the better part of valor.  If things didn’t appear to be going your way, better to run and live to fight another day.

“You should help her.” Harley nodded at the woman still crouched against the alley wall, who was attempting to gather up the tattered remnants of her dress.

Batman nodded and moved over to crouch next to the poor woman.  Harley heard him muttering softly to her but didn’t have the energy to try to overhear what he was saying.  She closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the hard brick, trying to get her emotions under control.

Her first fight in three years.  She’d desperately hoped she would never be in a fight again yet here she was in an alley strewn with her victims.  The sense of déjà vu was so overwhelming she wanted to sink down to the ground and lay there, unmoving, until she was buried under the ever-growing trash pit of Gotham-fucking-City.

A hand on her shoulder caused her to open her eyes and meet the clear, light blue gaze of the masked vigilante.  He’d removed his cape and draped it over the woman to allow her some modesty.

“The police are on their way.  You should go home.”

It took her a moment to process what he’d said. “Don’t I gotta stay?  Give a statement or whatever.” She didn’t relish the prospect.  Once they figured out who she was they’d probably want to bring her in for questioning too, regardless of what Batman said.

“I’ll take care of it,” he told her. “It’ll be better for you if you’re not here.”

So he was thinking along the same lines as her.  She didn’t see that it made much difference; there were five people who would identify her, and she imagined there was plenty of her DNA all over the alley.  Still, if it meant she got to spend a little bit of extra time as a free woman, why not?  Maybe she’d be able to finish her latest book before the cops IDed her.

She shrugged and started off for the mouth of the alley.  She had only taken a few steps before stopping and turning to look at the woman.  She was still huddled under Batman’s cape, but she looked a bit calmer.  She looked at Harley, tears staining her face.

“Thank you,” she managed to sniffle.

Harley couldn’t remember the last time she’d been thanked for anything.  She didn’t know what to say.  Eventually she settled for a nod. “Take care of yourself, toots.”

The rest of the walk back to her apartment passed in a haze, and before she knew it, she was standing underneath the dull light in her living room.  She moved as if drugged; going to her bathroom to wash her injured hand, staring blankly at her reflection in the mirror.  Afterwards, she examined the torn flesh of her knuckles.  They blazed with pain, but it was too early to tell if she’d fractured anything.  She knew she should probably go to an urgent care and get it looked at, but she could barely afford the copay for her mood stabilizers, let alone anything else.  In the end she took a couple painkillers and grabbed a bag of frozen peas for the swelling.

She had no idea how long she sat at her little table, staring off into nothingness before the window scraped open, and her solitude was broken by her nighttime visitor.  He’d reclaimed his cape and took up his usual seat across from her.  She made no move to acknowledge his arrival.

“How are you feeling?” he asked eventually in that deep, soft rumble.

She gave a single mirthless huff of laughter.  How could she begin to explain the hurricane of emotions she was experiencing?  She was feeling shame, anger, elation, adrenaline, self-loathing, sadness, guilt, and a whole mix of other sensations she didn’t have words for.  In the end she took a page out of his book and just didn’t say anything.

When it became clear she wasn’t going to respond, he said, “If you’re going to beat up people in alleys, we’ll need to get you a pair of tights.”

She snapped her head up to look at him indignantly.  She couldn’t believe he would say something like that after everything he’d done for her, all the faith he’d shown in her the last three years.  Was he really going to give up on her, just like that?  Part of her knew he’d be justified if he did, but she couldn’t deny the pain that idea caused her.

Then she caught sight of the slight quirk of his lips, and the way his eyes had crinkled.  With a sense of shock akin to being hit with a stun gun, she realized Batman had made a joke. 

He’d actually joked.

To make _her_ feel better.

She let out a hiccup of laugher.  And another.  Confused tears mixed with giggles, and she cried and laughed while gazing in amazement at her most unusual friend.

“How is she?” she finally gulped once she’d managed to calm down a bit.

“Shocked.  Scared.  But she’ll be okay.  GCPD offers trauma counseling now.”

Harley nodded. “I heard about that.  Some Bruce Wayne charity thing, isn’t it?” She took a deep, shaking breath. “When are the cops comin’ for me?” She braced herself for the answer.

She wasn’t expecting his reply though. “They aren’t.”

She felt her brow furrow. “How come?  Didn’t she tell ‘em about me?”

Batman shook his head. “I convinced her not to mention you.  I told her you didn’t like the police.  She understood.”

“What about DNA?  Pretty sure I left a bit of blood back there.” She raised her torn knuckles to prove her point.

“Gordon and I have an arrangement,” he explained. “When I’m involved, the GCPD only catalogues the evidence _I_ give them.  It makes it easier in court.”

She snorted. “I’m surprised the defense attorneys let you get away with that.”

“We’re good at what we do,” he said simply.

“I’ll bet.” She leaned back and finally allowed herself to breathe a sigh of relief.  No one was on their way to take her back to Arkham.  She got to continue rebuilding her life.  What was left of it at any rate.

“Why did you do it?” His tone was not combative or challenging, just openly curious.

Harley had been trying her best _not_ to think about this precise question.  She thought briefly about making up some story, but she supposed that he deserved an honest answer after everything he’d done for her tonight.

“All the old gangs used to like havin’ some fun with any women they caught.  I think Penguin started it, ‘cuz Falcone had a rule about goin’ after women and kids.” Talking about it took her back to those days with the Joker and his band of psychopaths.  They weren’t pleasant memories. “Joker’s crew was no different, ‘cept he didn’t really notice.  He was always thinkin’ about his next big prank.  When I came on, I made the boys stop.  Told ‘em they could rob all they liked, but no rape or killing.”

What she could see of Batman’s face reflected surprise. “Joker let you do that?”

“He didn’t get why they did it in the first place.  Joker never understood anything to do with sex.  It never made sense to him.  So long as they followed his orders and scared the crap outta people, he was fine with me makin’ a few changes.  I had to crack a couple skulls every now and then to make sure they were behaving.”

Her face twisted with old, unhappy memories. “I couldn’t get him to do anything about the other gangs.  Said we had better things to do.  Guess I was just rememberin’ some of that when I saw them with that girl.”

She stopped talking, having hit her limit for reminiscing that evening, and fortunately he didn’t press her for more details.  They sat in silence for a while as her hand continued to throb.  She took the frozen peas off eventually to have a look at the swelling.  Her knuckles were already turning purple, and she knew she’d have some impressive bruises in the morning. “Forgot how much this hurts.”

“Can I have a look?” Batman asked leaning forward and motioning at her hand.  She shrugged and let him cup her palm gently in his.  The eyeholes of his mask briefly flashed a bright opaque white as he stared at her hand. “You’re lucky, no fractures.  It’ll be stiff for a while, but you should be fine in a week.”

“That’s a relief,” she said, reapplying the bag. “Typing’s already enough of a pain in the ass.  You know how long it’s been since I used a keyboard?”

He didn’t answer.  Instead he responded with a question of his own. “How is your job.”

“It’s a job,” she replied noncommittally. “Pays the bills.”

“You don’t enjoy it.” It wasn’t a question.

“I stare at a computer screen all day.  What do you think?  Even when I was with the Joker I got to use my brain once in a while.  Not a lot, but still…”

“There’s no room for creativity?”

She laughed. “Pretty sure I’d get fired if I tried to do anythin’ creative.  I can’t risk that, there ain’t exactly a lotta jobs for people like me, you know.”

He appeared to ponder her words. “Have you thought about opening a practice again?  If you opened your own, you wouldn’t have to deal with getting hired.”

“Not a chance,” she said at once. “Like I said, I’ve had enough digging around in peoples’ heads.  ‘Sides, no one’d wanna get therapy from Harley Quinn.”

“You could change your name,” he suggested.

“No.  Joker took everythin’ else from me.  He don’t get to take my name too.  That’s mine.” She squinted at him, “What’s it matter to you anyway?  Why d’you care if I like my job or not.”

He took so long answering she assumed he wasn’t going to say anything. “It matters to me what happens to you.”

“Why?” she asked bluntly. “What’s my happiness to you?”

He looked at her steadily. “You deserve better than the world’s given you.”

She snorted. “Hate to be the one to break this to you, Bats, but we don’t always get what we deserve.  ‘Specially in this city.”

“Only because the people who _can_ do something about it choose _not_ to.” His tone was uncharacteristically passionate. “If we tried harder, we could make a better city.  For everyone.”

“Is that why you keep helpin’ me out?  To prove that your way works?  Cuz I’m not sure I like the idea of bein’ your test case.”

He shook his head. “No.  I believe in you.  I believe you can make your life better.”

She looked down at the table so he wouldn’t see the tears his words brought to her eyes. “Joker hated that you thought so much of people.  He thought we were all just animals.”

“What did you think?”

“I thought _you_ were the problem,” she told him honestly. “I thought it was your fault Gotham was the way it was.  I hoped if you were gone, thing’s would be better.”

He accepted her response stoically. “And now?”

“Now?  I’m not sure.  I haven’t really made up my mind about you.”

“Would it be better if I stayed away?”

She thought about it; genuinely considered whether it would help if she didn’t see him as often. “No,” she decided. “I like havin’ you around.  I’m just not sure what I think about you.”

“I understand,” he said.

After a moment, she stood up. “Not to be rude, but I’m pretty done for the night.  I just wanna take a shower and collapse.”

He stood with her and took a couple steps towards the window.  He paused in the frame and turned to look back at her. “For what it’s worth, you did a good thing tonight.”

“It don’t much feel like it right now,” she said.

He nodded. “I understand.  But I hope it does eventually.  That woman, her name is Beth Saunders.  She’s alive right now because of you.”

In spite of herself, Harley’s spirits lifted, if only slightly.  She smiled at her brooding friend. “Thanks, Bats.”

He returned her smile with a ghost of his own and was gone.


	5. Riddle Me This.

Restrained in the passenger seat of the Batmobile, Riddler screamed his outrage the entire way to the Asylum.

“IT WASN’T FAIR!  YOU DIDN’T BEAT ME, YOU CHEATED!  LET ME OUT THIS MOMENT!”

Bruce didn’t respond, keeping his eyes focused on the road ahead of him.  Being ignored just fueled Riddler’s anger, and he thrashed around as much as he could, promising all manner of retribution and punishment for this indignity.  Through it all, Bruce never gave a single indication that he could hear a thing Riddler was saying.  To all appearances, he seemed completely unaware that anyone else was in the car with him.

By the time they arrived at Arkham’s wrought iron gates, Riddler was practically foaming at the mouth.  Bruce calmly pulled him from the Batmobile, hardly appearing to notice when Riddler attempted to bite him.  With as much detachment as he could possibly project, he marched the babbling criminal up to the waiting escort.

“YOU HAVEN’T BEATEN ME BATMAN! I’LL BE BACK!  THESE PATHETIC IMBECILES CAN’T POSSIBLY CONTAIN ME!  THIS ISN’T THE END OF IT!”

His threats faded as the Akrham guards hauled him into the doors of the Asylum’s intake building.  Warden O’Daire approached Bruce once the criminal was gone and shook his head ruefully.

“Always a dramatic one, isn’t he?” the Warden remarked.

Bruce allowed himself a tight smile. “I have a feeling he’ll be even worse this time.”

“Wonderful,” O’Daire sighed. “You know he’s probably right though.  We’ve never held him for longer than a few months at a time.”

“I have some thoughts about that.” Bruce tapped a control on his wrist interface.  A second later the Warden’s cell phone chirped.  O’Daire pulled it out and looked at the package of information Bruce had just sent him.  He frowned as he examined the schematics.

“This might work.” O’Daire’s tone was skeptical. “I’ll have to talk it over with a couple of the doctors and security.  Probably Gordon too.  It’d certainly take some time.”

“You have the resources,” Bruce stated.

“Yeah, we’re not running out of the Wayne grant anytime soon.  Still, there’s a lot of things we could do with that money.  I’m not sure I like the idea of committing so much to a single inmate.”

“He’s not just any inmate,” Bruce countered. “Nigma’s the last of the major super criminals running free in Gotham.  If you can contain him, we might finally have peace.”

The Warden blew out a breath as he considered Bruce’s words. “I’ll see what I can do.  No promises though.”

Bruce accepted that with a nod and returned to the Batmobile.  Once inside and speeding away from Arkham, he opened up a video feed to Barbara and Tim.

“Did you get there safely?” Barbara asked at once.

“Yes, there weren’t any problems.  He definitely wasn’t expecting to get caught this time.”

Tim laughed. “When is he ever?  He never bothers with a contingency plan.  Speaking of, what did the Warden think of our designs?”

“I think I have him convinced,” Bruce said. “I’ll have a word with Gordon.  See if we can put a little extra pressure on him.  We have backups in case it doesn’t work.”

“Speaking of that,” Barbara broke in, “the virus gave us more access to Riddler’s information than we’ve ever had.  Usually he has programs that wipe his files if he’s caught, but this time I was able to back up a lot of his data before it kicked in.  Bank accounts, extortion data, malicious software, you name it, I got a decent chunk.”

“Excellent.” Bruce didn’t try to hide his satisfaction. “Well done, both of you.  Take the rest of the night off, you’ve earned it.”

Both his crime fighting allies looked shocked; he knew neither of them could remember _him_ telling them to take any kind of break.

Tim was the first to recover. “You don’t have to tell me twice.  I’ll see you guys later.” He disconnected quickly, as if afraid Bruce would change his mind.

“What about you?” Barbara asked once it was just the two of them.

“I have a stop to make first.”

“You’re going to see Quinn, aren’t you?” she deduced, and he could tell from her tone that she disapproved.

He didn’t bother denying it, Barbara would see right through the lie. “She deserves to know what happened.  We wouldn’t have caught him without her help.”

Barbara looked dubious. “She wasn’t the one putting in twenty-hour days the last two weeks setting this whole thing up.”

“No,” Bruce allowed, “but without her advice, we wouldn’t have thought to try.  We owe this to her more than anyone.”

He could tell she wasn’t convinced but she didn’t argue further. “If you say so.  Just…be careful.  I know she’s behaving, but I still don’t trust her yet.  It hasn’t been that long, all things considered.”

“I know.  Trust me, I’m being cautious.”

“Alright, I’ll stop bothering you,” Barbara said, holding up her hands in mock surrender. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Bruce.”

A few minutes later he was pulling himself into Harley’s apartment.  Despite the late hour, she was still up, sitting at the table reading a book.  She’d told him early on that she’d always suffered from insomnia, the product of an anxiety disorder, but that it had been much worse since leaving the Joker.  She was often lucky to get more than a few hours of sleep a night.

She glanced up at him as he sat down across from her. “Good, you’re not bleedin.’  Didn’t really feel like stitching you up tonight.” As she returned to her book, Bruce allowed himself a brief grin.  He saw that her mug was empty, and to spare her the trouble, he got up to make tea.

That elicited a slightly surprised stare from her, but she didn’t stop him as he added water to the kettle and pulled teabags from the cupboard.  She did put her book down to watch him though.  When he handed her a fresh cup of chamomile and sat back down, she gave him a quizzical look.

“Seems like you’re in a good mood tonight,” she remarked.

He took a sip of tea, thinking briefly about Barbara’s concerns before reaffirming his commitment to giving Harley the credit she deserved. “We caught Riddler tonight.”

She raised her eyebrows. “That was quick.  Figured it’d take a little longer.”

“What you said gave me some ideas.”

Harley leaned forward and rested her arms on the table, assuming an attentive position. “Well go on, tell me all about it.”

The key had been Riddler’s narcissism, his need for recognition.  In the past, they’d always let him dictate the terms and nature of his attention seeking behavior.  Whether it was a puzzle maze, a riddle leading to a hostage, or some other elaborate scheme, they waited for _him_ to make the first move.  For a long time, this had been out of necessity; with so many super criminals running around, Bruce and his allies were constantly stretched thin trying to deal with the most pressing crisis of the day.  Harley had gotten him to realize that now, with the relative calm Gotham had been enjoying, they could focus their attention more fully on Nigma.

They set up a little contest; a competition of sorts.  Batman had become something of a celebrity in Gotham, although he rarely appeared in public.  So, when the GCPD had announced that they were holding an online puzzle contest for charity, and the winner of each round would get a personal message from Batman, people had leapt at the opportunity.

Bruce knew that Riddler would have seen the ploy for what it was, an obvious attempt to get his attention.  He also knew that Nigma’s megalomania would not allow him to pass up the opportunity to show off, especially once he saw the relative simplicity of the riddles.  The day that the winner of the first round was announced, he’d pictured Nigma, sitting in whatever lair he was using, waiting smugly for his name to be shown.

Bruce could only imagine the indignation on his face when the winner was not @ENigma, but a ten-year-old boy named Joseph.  The child’s ecstatic face popped up on the designated public Snapchat, looking more excited than if it were Christmas.  When Batman joined the feed and congratulated the young man for being so clever, he’d actually cried from excitement.

This had clearly infuriated Riddler, who went apoplectic all over social media.  However, he’d been unable to attack little Joseph directly, because Barbara had put up the sort of cyber security that would make the Pentagon jealous.  And when Riddler had attempted to physically abduct Joseph in retaliation, Bruce and Tim were waiting to thwart the thugs he sent.  The boy’s family had been made aware of the situation and consented to be involved before they announced him as the winner.

This continued through six subsequent rounds.  They were able to track everyone who accessed the online riddles, and accounts associated with Nigma were inevitably the first to solve their problems.  However, each time they selected the next closest contender with Batman congratulating the winner in a live feed.

Riddler was enraged, flooding social media with messages that he was being discriminated against.  Of course, in an age of online trolls, no one paid him much attention, which only fueled his anger.  He attempted to hack the website publishing the riddles several times, but with no better results than his many efforts to infiltrate the Batcave’s mainframe.

Left with no other option his narcissism could contemplate, he resorted to monitoring the website day and night until a new riddle was published.  Although they couldn’t trace the IP address of his computer, it didn’t take a genius to deduce who was so obsessively returning to their site.  Barbara and Tim had more than a few laughs thinking about a sleep deprived Nigma sitting in front of a screen, clicking the refresh button over and over.

Then, on the last day of the contest, the winner of the final round was announced.  Riddler’s face popped up on the Snapchat, his eyes bloodshot and hair unkempt, but looking smug and triumphant.  He waxed on for a bit about being glad that Batman was finally playing fair and acknowledging his brilliance in deigning to solve these very childish puzzles.

After some time, he finally noticed that no one else was on the feed with him.  He angrily demanded to know where Batman was.  After all, everyone else had gotten a, thoroughly undeserved, congratulations from the Dark Knight, and surely he deserved the same!

At that moment, thousands of people watching were treated to the hilarity of Nigma’s terrified expression as Batman materialized, seemingly out of nowhere, and seized the unsuspecting criminal.  After an aborted scream of surprise, the feed switched to Commissioner Gordon, who congratulated Nigma on taking the opportunity to complete the rest of his two hundred and twenty-seven-year sentence in Arkham.  He also thanked Gotham for raising over a million dollars for charities to provide quality schooling for children with special needs.

Had Riddler been a little less fixated on proving his intelligence, he might have noticed that each time he’d accessed a puzzle, a portion of a cleverly designed trojan virus was being downloaded to his computer.  These pieces individually were not harmful enough to be picked up by his rather complex firewalls, but together they operated as an extremely effective malware that not only transmitted his location to the Batcomputer but downloaded a significant portion of the data on his hard drive.

Bruce had not bothered explaining this to Nigma on the ride to Arkham, despite the man’s increasingly hysterical demands.

The version he gave Harley was edited slightly to protect Barbara and Tim’s identities, but conveyed the gist of the story nevertheless.  When he finished recounting, Harley gave a little clap.

“Not bad, Bats,” she said. “Definitely more fun than dodgin’ razors, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” he replied sincerely. “Yes, it is.  Thank you.”

“For what?” she asked in confusion.

“”For helping me.  We wouldn’t have been able to catch him without your advice.”

She smiled somewhat bashfully. “Well, since that last one worked out so well for you, and seein’ as I’m in a good mood tonight, how about I give you your first official consultation?”

He gave her a surprised look. “Are you sure?”

She nodded cheerfully. “Yep, Dr. Harley’s in the house.  So, hit me with it, who are we psychoanalyzing today?”

He’d given a lot of thought to who he’d ask her about since they’d made their deal.  There were more than a few possibilities that he’d considered, but his mind kept returning to one in particular.

“Harvey Dent.”

Bruce often thought of Harvey Dent, aka Two-Face, as one of his greatest failures.  A champion of the law, an almost unstoppable force for good, brought down because Bruce had gotten complacent.  He’d made the mistake of thinking he’d won, and Harvey had paid the price.  Two-Face was by no means the most dangerous of Bruce’s enemies, but he was the one Bruce regretted the most.

Harley’s face took on a pensive expression. “That’s a tough one there.  Official diagnosis is Dissociative Identity Disorder.  Supposedly, the attack fractured his psyche and split him into two people.  One’s still noble and kind, the other’s sadistic and violent.  Both are fixated on his coin as a tool for decision making, particularly when committing murder.”

Bruce picked up on the qualifier. “Supposedly?”

Harley shrugged. “DID’s a controversial diagnosis.  A lotta folks don’t think it’s a real condition.  Personally, I was always skeptical.  I had a couple sessions with him, and I thought it felt like a really bad case of PTSD.  Doc Leeland never agreed with me though.”

“What made you question the official diagnosis?” Bruce asked.  He’d been uncertain himself, but he wanted to hear her reasoning.

She frowned. “Not sure.  Just a hunch I guess.  Both his supposed personalities were always talkin’ about the injustice of everythin,’ an’ how it was all just chance.  He really thought he was makin’ a difference before.  Didn’t seem to be able to handle gettin’ injured like that.  I think it’s easier for him to express his anger as if it were another person than confront it himself.”

“What about the coin?”

“An outgrowth of the PTSD.  He’s terrified of makin’ decisions himself.  If somethin’ bad happens, he can just blame it on the coin, instead of dealing with the idea that it’s a result of his own choices.”

Bruce had also surmised as much, but her insight made him more confident in his conclusions.  That brought him to his most pressing question. “How would you advise dealing with him if he ever gets out again?”

Harley gave a slightly morbid smile. “I wouldn’t let it get that far.  Go back to Arkham tomorrow and melt down the coin in front of him.”

Bruce stared at her, unable to contain his shock.  Whatever he’d been expecting, that had definitely not been it. “Why?”

“Because he needs it.  He can’t do anything without it.  Get rid of the coin, and you paralyze him.”

“What if he just finds another coin?”

“Possible,” Harley allowed, “but I doubt it.  He’s got a lot of meaning tied up in that coin.  It was his grandfather’s, right?  I don’t think he’d even consider replacing it.”

Bruce accepted this, but still had trouble wrapping his head around the suggestion. “He’s hardly functional when we just _take_ the coin away from him.  What would it do to him if we _destroyed_ it?”

She held up a hand. “Three possibilities, as I see it.  One, he goes on a murderous rampage to get revenge.  Unlikely, because he usually needs the coin to kill someone, but ya never know.  Two, he goes completely catatonic and you never get another peep out of him.  Not really ideal, but it’d solve your problems.  Also, much more likely, in my opinion.

“Three, he gets better.”

Bruce frowned in confusion. “Just like that?”

She rolled her eyes. “No, of course not like that.  You’re probably still looking at a bit of catatonia regardless, but he might learn to adjust.  Eventually.  After a _lotta_ therapy and a hefty dose of meds.  But it could happen.”

“How likely do you think that is?” he asked, trying not to get his hopes too high.

“Honestly, not very.  I’d put my money on catatonic.”

“I’m not sure I like those odds,” Bruce remarked.

“Better than the toss of a coin.” She looked him in the eye. “Be honest with me, Bats, in ten years have you gotten anywhere with him?  Freeze mellowed out a bit, my head’s on a little straighter, and Ivy’s not tryin’ to poison every human she sees.  But is Harvey any different after all this time?”

“No.” It pained Bruce to admit it, but he couldn’t lie to Harley or himself. “He’s exactly the same.”

“Do you think maybe it’s time to admit your friend ain’t comin’ back?” Harley’s voice was soft.  He couldn’t find it in himself to respond, but she leaned across the table and gave his hand a sympathetic pat.

“Alright, enough of this depressing stuff.” She sat back and grinned excitedly. “My turn.”

He steeled himself for the question he knew she would ask.  It was inevitable after all, ever since she’d proposed this deal, and he assumed it would be sooner as opposed to later.

Once again though, Harley surprised him.

“What’s your favorite food?”

“What?” The word left his mouth before he could stop himself.  Of all the myriad questions he thought she might ask, even the unlikely ones, that was definitely not one of them.

Her grin widened as if she knew exactly what he was thinking. “What is your favorite food,” she repeated slowly.

It took him a while to recover long enough to even think about what his favorite food might be.  Food wasn’t a huge priority to him, just something that gave sustenance, a fact that caused Alfred considerable consternation.  He’d serve Bruce a platter of overcooked, unseasoned chicken breasts or the finest filet, and Bruce would eat it up without looking.

He tried casting his mind back to before he was Batman, when he’d had a bit more time for the less serious things in life.  His recollections brought him back to his time abroad, training for his eventual return to Gotham.  One experience stood out above others.

“Takoyaki.”

It was Harley’s turn to look confused. “Say again.”

“Takoyaki.” He made an effort to use a more Anglo pronunciation.

“And what is that exactly?  I don’t speak…whatever it is you’re speakin.’”

He wasn’t surprised she hadn’t heard of it. “It’s a Japanese street food.  Pieces of octopus in a fried batter.”

She nodded skeptically. “Never really cared much for octopus.  How’d you come across this Taka-whatever-it-is.”

“Takoyaki.” He debated briefly how much to tell her before deciding there was little harm in it. “I studied jiujitsu for a while in Japan.  There was a stand near the dojo that the other students and I would go to after class.  It was…very good.” He struggled against the sense of nostalgia rising in him at the memories.

“So that’s where you picked up your moves, huh?” Harley remarked.

“Some of them,” he replied noncommittally. “I traveled many places.”

“I ain’t hardly ever been out of Gotham,” she said wistfully. “Wouldja mind tellin’ me about ‘em sometime?”

He hesitated slightly.  It was another risk, after all.  Sooner or later, he’d probably let some detail slip that would allow a clever person to backtrack or deduce his identity, and Harley was a dangerously clever person.  But then again, it was probably unavoidable that she’d ask eventually, so it didn’t much matter in the grand scheme of things.  He nodded.

He couldn’t bring himself to regret his decision when she smiled brightly.


	6. Routine

Harley woke up.  She ate plain cereal and fruit for breakfast.  She walked past crumbling buildings to the train station.  She sat in the cleanest seat she could find as the train filled up with all manner of Gothamites bound for the Diamond District.

In her cubicle at Wayne Enterprises, she worked on the day’s assignments.  Some days it was inputting details of new corporate partnerships.  Other days it was updating payroll information.  Usually it was even more basic things like tracking utilities and employees’ computer usage, because her supervisor didn’t yet trust her with more sensitive data.  Little did the idiot know, she could probably do far more damage with the building’s electricity schema than clients’ personal data.

But she wouldn’t.  She wasn’t allowed.

At lunch she sat alone in the little breakroom, because no one ever sat with her.  She never went to the fancy Wayne Tower cafeteria, partially because she figured it’d be too expensive, mostly because she didn’t want to be stared at.  Word had gotten around pretty quickly that Harley Quinn was working for Wayne Enterprises.  HR had put a stop to the hate mail reasonably fast, but she still got the occasional nasty note.  She didn’t see much point to inviting more.  Better to keep her head down.

After work she rode home with the same crowd of working professionals, school children, senior citizens, and assorted riffraff, as her mother would call them.  She went to the cheap, run down gym that was the best she could reasonably afford, and worked out her frustrations on a punching bag.  The other regulars pretended not to know who she was, and she pretended not to recognize them.

She walked home underneath washed out streetlights, ignoring the stares she attracted.  At home she took a lukewarm shower, because hot water was expensive, and made dinner, typically something healthy and simple.  Once a week she indulged and got takeout.  She lay in bed with a book until she was too tired to keep her eyes open.

Then she woke up and did it all again.

Routine.  That was the name of the game.

Weekends were no different, although the days were a bit more fun.  On Saturday she had lunch or coffee with Veronica.  They usually met somewhere way too expensive for her, but Veronica always paid.  Harley felt embarrassed that she couldn’t ever offer to cover the bill, but Veronica never seemed to notice or care. 

These were always good days.  Veronica chatted with her about everything and nothing.  She gossiped about people Harley had never heard of or shows Harley hadn’t seen.  Harley didn’t mind, it made her feel normal.  She would tell Veronica about work, and the coworkers that bugged her.  Veronica would commiserate about the women who whispered about Harley behind her back, despite having never met these people.

When they parted ways, Harley went to the Gotham City Zoo.  The annual membership she’d purchased was an extravagance, but one she’d needed.

Her babies were there.

She’d been forced to give them back to the Zoo after messing up her first parole.  She knew it was for the best, hyenas didn’t make very good house pets, and she didn’t have much room anyway.  Still, it made her sad.

Their enclosure was separated from the public by a large glass wall.  Because of that, they couldn’t smell her and know she was there.  But she pretended they could, and she sat in front of the glass and chatted with them, telling them all about her new life, and how much she missed them.  Passerby gave her odd looks, but she didn’t pay them any attention.  She only left once the Zoo started closing, and the attendants told her to leave.

On Sundays she went to the little used bookshop across town whose owner had just moved to Gotham and didn’t know who Harley Quinn was.  She browsed dusty paperbacks to her hearts content, usually buying something that was on the dollar shelf.  Genre didn’t really matter to her.  Literature, fantasy, mystery, biography, history; it was all the same.

Except romance.  She never bought romance.

Monday came around, and the routine started over.

The only things that ever interrupted her schedule were the visits from Batman.  Those were unusual.  She couldn’t plan for them, or anticipate them, and she never really knew where their conversations might lead.  The one bit of uncertainty in an otherwise well-ordered life.

Except he hadn’t been coming around lately.  It had been two weeks since his last visit, when they’d discussed Two-Face.  After that, nothing.

She wondered if she’d scared him off with the question about his favorite food.  She knew what he’d been expecting her to ask, and she’d figured that something more mundane would be less threatening.  Maybe not though.  Maybe the simple intimacy of talking about food was too much for him.  As much as she tried not to turn her talents for psychological assessment on him, it was hard not to pick up glimpses here and there.  The idea of sharing anything personal was probably more than he was able to handle.  He’d likely decided to stay away from her from now on.

Perhaps it was for the best.  He was a reminder of lots of things that she was attempting to put behind her; the representation of a world that had nearly destroyed her.  Better to get on with her life; one that had no place for Batman.

So, the days went by, each one very much like the last.  With one notable, stress inducing exception.

“Hey everyone, could I get you to gather around over here please!” Her supervisor’s voice cut through the usual office chatter.  Harley stood up and looked curiously over the sea of cubicles along with the rest of her coworkers.  Mr. Reynolds was standing in the empty space they used to make announcements. “I’ve got something very exciting to talk to you all about.”

Gradually, the office congregated around him.  Harley hung back at the edge of the crowd, separated by the unspoken rules of inter-office dynamics.

“Okay then, I’m super thrilled about this.” Mr. Reynolds had a big smile on his face. “We’ve got a real treat for you all today!  In a minute, Mr. Wayne himself is going to be down to visit with us!”

A number of Harley’s coworkers, particularly the women, gave gasps of surprise.  Several grabbed each other and started chatting excitedly.  Harley didn’t see what all the fuss was about.  It was just some billionaire whose name happened to be on the building, what was so exciting about that?  She knew that half of Gotham was obsessed with every detail of Bruce Wayne’s life, particularly his romantic conquests, but for the life of her she couldn’t figure out why?  It wasn’t like he was gonna start dating one of the data entry people after all.

“Now I want everyone to be on their best behavior,” Mr. Reynolds said as if they were schoolchildren, “and please make Mr. Wayne feel welcome.”

A minute later Bruce Wayne walked through the doors and into the office.  He looked exactly like he always did on the cover of magazines; tall, blandly handsome, and dressed in an immaculately tailored charcoal suit.  For some reason, everyone started clapping when they saw him.  Harley just leaned against a nearby wall, trying not to broadcast her boredom too openly.

“Mr. Wayne, thank you so much for coming to see us!” Mr. Reynolds gushed, pumping Wayne’s hand enthusiastically.

Wayne gave a pleasant, if somewhat vacant smile. “The pleasure’s all mine.  It’s always a treat to get to spend some time with my employees.  And please, call me Bruce.”

“Of course, Mr. Way-I mean, Bruce,” Reynolds caught himself. “And let me just say how much I enjoy working for Wayne Enterprises.  I’m sure all my staff agrees that this is a fantastic place to work.”

Harley rolled her eyes at the obvious brown nosing, but Wayne didn’t seem put off by it.  He was probably used to people sucking up to him. “I’m glad to hear that,” Wayne replied. “You all are doing important work for the company, and I hope you know how much your contributions are valued.”

Mr. Reynolds beamed. “I try to remind everyone of that as often as I can.  It doesn’t matter where we are in the corporate structure, even if we’re at the bottom of the ladder.”

He gave a pointed little glance at the assembled workers.  Harley had to actively stifle a laugh at that little bit of condescension.

Wayne just smiled blandly though. “Do you mind if I stick around a bit?  I’d love to chat with some of your staff?  If it’s not too much trouble?  I always find it’s good to hear from people personally about their experiences with the company.”

Mr. Reynolds’ expression turned suddenly nervous at the idea of his staff getting unsupervised time with the big man.  But with the eyes of several dozen suddenly excited employees on him, there was no way he could say no.

With a much less convincing smile, he said, “Of course, Bruce, I’m sure everyone would love to talk with you.”

Bruce beamed. “Excellent!  I’ll just wander around a bit.  Don’t mind me everyone, I’ll try not to get in the way.”

Harley returned gratefully to her cubicle.  Boring as work was, listening to halfwit playboy billionaires was even worse.  She ignored the excited chatter as Wayne moved among them, pausing occasionally to ask a question or two of her coworkers.

It never occurred to her that he might stop and talk to her as well.

A soft rap on the side of her cubicle made her look up in surprise.  Wayne was standing there, that same generically pleasant grin on his face.

“Ms. Quinzel, isn’t it?” he asked politely, despite her nametag being clearly visible on the side of the cubicle.

“Uh, yeah, that’s me,” she said blankly.

“I was hoping you’d have a minute to chat,” he said, stepping into the cubicle. Over Wayne’s shoulder she could see Mr. Reynolds’ panicked expression.  Apparently, he was also surprised at Wayne’s choice.

“Uh, sure, no problem.” She sounded like an idiot even to her own ears.  She cleared some papers off the only other chair; the one she tried to keep occupied so her bosses had nowhere to sit when they came to tell her she’d done something trivial wrong.

Up close, she realized Wayne was much bigger than he looked.  The suits he wore made him look slimmer, but he was obviously carrying a fair amount of muscle as well.  Plenty of time to work out in between being rich and not having to do actual work, she figured.  There was something more though, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on.  He had a presence that was at odds with the blandness of his expression and body language.  Something that spoke to an intensity, perhaps.

Or maybe she was just imagining things.  She hadn’t been expecting to chat with the big boss today after all.

“How are you liking Wayne Enterprises, Ms. Quinzel?” he asked once he was settled in the tatty little office chair.

Her brain had gone completely blank. “Um, it’s fine.”

He peered at her solicitously when she didn’t elaborate. “Just fine?  I mean, I know it’s probably not as exciting as you’re used to, but still…”

Harley found that her mouth was rather dry. “You, uh, you know who I am?”

“Of course.” He gave that little laugh that rich people seemed to have perfected. “Veronica Vreeland’s a good friend of mine, she’s told me all about you.”

In her anxiety, she’d briefly forgotten that little fact, and relaxed slightly. “Yeah, well, you can only have so much excitement after a while, right?  Better to have a quiet life after all.”

Wayne gave another little laugh. “I know exactly what you mean!  Every now and then you just want to take it easy, don’t you?” She nodded warily and he leaned forward, suddenly businesslike. “So, Ms. Quinzel, what are some things you think we could do around here to make Wayne Enterprises better?”

The first ten ideas that came to her mind were all wildly inappropriate or impractical, including banning perfume and requiring all supervisors to speak in nothing but iambic pentameter every Thursday.  Unfortunately, the first thing she thought of that didn’t seem like it would get her immediately fired was not much better.

“Your security camera coverage ain’t that great at the west entrance.”

The moment the words left her mouth she desperately wished she could reach out and snatch them back, but the damage was done.

Wayne raised a mildly curious eyebrow. “Interesting.  What do you mean by that, Miss Quinzel?”

She gulped. “Well, you got a lotta blind spots over there.  Buncha places where someone could slip right past.  Especially if security ain’t around.”

Something sharpened in his eyes. “Really?  Would you mind showing me?”

Harley minded very much, but didn’t see as she had much choice in the matter.

They rose, and Wayne turned to Mr. Reynolds, who looked almost as white as the Joker. “Is it alright if I borrow Harley for a moment?  I promise I’ll have her back before you know it.”

It was clear that Reynolds objected about as much as Harley did, but like her, he was powerless to say anything to Bruce Wayne. “Sure, no problem,” he managed.

“Fantastic!” Wayne looked around at the office, most of whom were regarding the pair with blank shock that he appeared not to notice. “Thank you all very much for your hard work!  You’re doing all of us here proud.”

He motioned Harley to take the lead and she ambled out of the office, doing her best to avoid the hostile, disbelieving stares of her coworkers.

The expansive elevator felt like a two-by-two box to Harley.  She felt like she might break into a nervous sweat at any moment.  Wayne on the other hand seemed totally oblivious to any sort of tension.

“Veronica said you’ve been doing really well since leaving Arkham,” Wayne remarked blithely. “I remember she was super excited the weeks leading up.  Couldn’t talk about anything else.”

Harley blinked. “Really?” Veronica had been a good friend, but she had never understood why.  For a while she’d wondered if Veronica saw Harley as a trophy or oddity of sorts, one she’d get bored of at some point.  But after a year of visiting her at Arkham, and months of continuing to support her afterwards, Veronica showed no sign of being tired of Harley.

“Oh yes,” Wayne answered. “I don’t think she has many good friends.  It’s hard to meet people in our social circles sometimes.” He leaned toward her and smiled conspiratorially. “You probably noticed, rich people tend to be a little fake.”

Curiously, she found herself smiling back.  Somewhere in the course of the elevator ride, he’d stopped being quite so bland.  Odd.  She wondered if maybe he was just socially awkward.

At that moment, the door opened, and they arrived in the cavernous lobby of Wayne Tower.  As they walked to the west entrance, the people they passed did double takes when they saw her at Wayne’s side.  She could tell which ones recognized her because they tended to stop dead in their tracks and stare openly.  Wayne seemed oddly immune to such looks and waved pleasantly every now and then at someone he knew.

“Well here we are,” Wayne said when they reached their destination. “Why don’t you show me what you meant?”

Her nervousness returning somewhat, Harley walked him around the outside, showing him the positioning of the cameras, their ranges of coverage, and the small, but significant gaps that an observant person could easily exploit.  To her surprise, he listened to her with an unusual intensity.

Taken in by his interest, she also pointed out several issues with their security entrance, including the locations of guards, the rather problematic model of x-ray machine they were using, and the way that art installations would bottle up crowds in an emergency.  Wayne made no move to stop her, and she kept going.

In fact, she got so caught up in what she was doing that she lost all sense of time, and only stopped when a large suited man approached them and leaned in close to Wayne, who then turned to her.

“I’m very sorry, Ms. Quinzel, but I’m being told I’m late for an important meeting.” He gave her an apologetic smile. “Thank you though, this has been extremely informative.”

“Oh, sure,” Harley said, coming back to herself somewhat. “Sorry to monopolize you like that, guess I wasn’t really thinking.”

He smiled again. “Trust me, I know what that’s like.  Have a good rest of your day, Ms. Quinzel.”

Wayne and the suited man marched purposefully away, leaving Harley feeling a bit confused.  She made her way back to her office somewhat more sedately; uncomfortably aware of the way people whispered behind their hands as she passed.  Reynolds in particular stared at her with a mix of jealousy, anger, and irritation.  She tried to put these things out of her mind and focus on her work.

On the way home, however, she had nothing to keep her from replaying the day’s strange events over and over in her head.  The more she thought about it, the more she became convinced that pointing out every security flaw she could find was probably not the best way to introduce herself to the owner of her company.  She hadn’t even really been paying attention to his reaction, she’d just been caught up in the excitement of using her brain for once.  For all she knew, he’d been totally freaked out and convinced she was threatening him.  And despite generally not caring about her coworkers’ opinions, she knew she’d made no friends by spending so much time in Wayne’s company, even if she hadn’t sought it out.

These thoughts began to spiral in her head, no matter how much she tried to push them down.  The idea that she might have wrecked the only decent job prospect she was likely to get kept hitting her like a hammer.  And even if she hadn’t, even if, by some miracle, they didn’t immediately fire her the next day, she’d definitely lost even the tiniest chance of her coworkers liking her.

She felt herself starting to lose control, breath coming short, heart racing.  When the train finally pulled in to her station, she was the first one off.  She raced up the streets, past confused pedestrians, dodging cars in intersections, until she reached the safety of her apartment.

She flung herself inside and slammed the door behind her.  She sagged against the wall, closing her eyes and gulping in air that never seemed to reach her lungs.  The world felt to be closing in around her, and she was sure that if she opened her eyes, the walls would be right on the verge of crushing her.

She jumped when a gloved hand touched her softly on her shoulder.  Her eyes snapped open, and once again she looked up into the concerned, sympathetic face of her friend.

When she saw him, she didn’t even think.  She immediately flung her arms around his neck and buried her face against his caped shoulder as tears spilled out of her.  Tentatively at first, his arms wrapped around her back, and he held her against him.

“It’s alright,” he said softly. “It’ll all be alright.”


	7. Comfort

It took a while for Harley to calm down, but Bruce held her the entire time, whispering gentle comforts to her.  The whole experience was strange to him for a number of reasons.  For one, people rarely ran to him for comfort, even when he wasn’t dressed as a giant bat.  The occasional child had thrown themselves into his arms, but usually only after being kidnapped by someone far scarier than Batman.  However, scared children were a far cry from distraught women.  They tended to go elsewhere for emotional support.

More importantly, though, Harley had been in what seemed to be excellent spirits earlier that very day.  Her enthusiasm when working through the security problems with Wayne Tower reminded him of the carefree way she’d once bounced through crime scenes, except much less ominous.  It had been…infectious.

To therefore have her rush into her apartment on the verge of tears had been more than a little surprising.  As had flinging herself at him.

Eventually she relaxed and allowed him to lead her to the table and get her something to drink.  It seemed the perfect opportunity for something stronger than tea for once.  However, after hunting fruitlessly through her cupboards before belatedly remembering his detective vision, he was forced to conclude the strongest drink she owned was Earl Grey.

So, he made that for her instead.

The lack of alcohol surprised him somewhat, given that alcoholism had never been among Harley Quinn’s, admittedly numerous, issues.  Even Bruce had a glass of wine once in a while.  Still, he supposed it was better in the long run.

“Bad day?” he asked as he placed the cup in front of her.

She looked up at him with red, watery eyes. “Yeah, I guess you could say that.”

“Tell me about it.”

With a few more shuddering breaths to get herself under control, she related the events of the day; her conversation with Bruce Wayne, and the spiral of anxieties it had sparked in her, anxieties that had only grown during the ride home.

Bruce listened without interrupting until she finished by describing her gut deep certainty that she’d be fired for her behavior. “Why do you think that?” he asked.

She looked at him incredulously. “Are you serious, Bats?  I walked Bruce-freakin-Wayne through a play by play of everything wrong with his building’s security!  I’m a felon, I worked for the goddam _Joker_!  He probably thinks I’ve been casin’ the place.  Hell, that’s what _I’d_ think if I were him.  Why would he keep me around?”

Bruce considered his response very carefully.  He had it on good authority that he wasn’t planning to fire Harley, but he obviously couldn’t just tell her that.  This whole thing had become more complicated than he’d thought possible.  The only reason he’d visited her in his foppish Bruce Wayne persona was because he missed her, and he wanted to see how she was doing.  He hadn’t imagined it would cause her so much distress.

“From what I understand,” he said cautiously. “Bruce Wayne is the type to take security very seriously.  He might be grateful for your help.”

Harley gave a hiccupping laugh. “Yeah, sure, if you say so.” She obviously didn’t believe that, but just as obviously had no energy to argue.

“Did you enjoy it?”

“Enjoy what?”

“Assessing the security?” he clarified.

She seemed to think over the question. “Yeah, I guess I did.  More than data entry for sure.  We used to do it all the time in Joker’s crew, but it felt different this time.  Like, I wasn’t tryin’ to rob the place, I was thinkin’ about how they could make it better.  I know I wasn’t thinkin’ straight, but I was tryin’ to help.  Honestly.”

“I believe you,” he said sincerely. “Bruce Wayne might as well, if you tell him.”

“When would I get the opportunity?” Harley countered. “I doubt he fires people himself.”

“Just…give it a chance,” Bruce said softly. “Don’t give up.”

Harley sighed. “I ain’t givin’ up, Bats.  Not yet, anyhow.” She took a drink of tea. “Distract me, would’ya?  How come I haven’t seen you in a while?”

“I…haven’t been well,” Bruce admitted with some difficulty.

She looked at him in disbelief. “You mean, that happens?  I figured you’d be one of those never-gets-sick types.”

He looked away. “I’m only human.”

“Hard to remember that sometimes, even for me” she remarked, a bit pensively. “So, what?  Been laid up in bed with a cold?”

“No, I…” He struggled a bit before giving up on being evasive. “It’s an old injury.  Torn ligament in my knee.  I wasn’t taking care of it properly during everything with Riddler.  The night after my last visit I was on patrol.  There was a mugger who tried to fight back and I overextended on a kick.  The next morning I could barely walk.”

She stared at him, her expression caught between shock and wonderment as he continued. “I would have told you, but I had no way of contacting you.  Not discreetly, anyway.  You don’t have a phone.”

“Can’t afford one,” she said absently. “Sorry, I’m just processing.  I mean, I know you’ve been at this a while, but I guess I didn’t think you were so…fragile.”

He scowled. “I’m not, it’s just…I’m not as young as I used to be.  And after Bane…” He trailed off.

“Is it true he broke your back?” Harley asked softly.

Bruce shook his head. “No that was a just a rumor that started spreading after our first fight.  He broke my collarbone, forearm, five of my ribs, dislocated a knee and a shoulder.”

Harley winced. “How long’d it take to recover?”

“How long did Bane run Gotham’s underworld?”

“About a year?” Harley guessed after a moment’s thought.

Bruce nodded. “I was healed by the seven-month mark, but it was a while before I felt strong enough to fight him.  Even with help we almost lost.”

“He was the scariest thing I’ve ever seen,” Harley agreed. “Even Joker didn’t feel like messin’ with him too much.”

“I have no idea what we’ll do if he ever decides to come back.” Bruce had never voiced the fear to anyone, not even Alfred.  It had taken everything he and Jason had to bring the monster down, and when it came to combat, Jason had been the best of them.

“He won’t.”

Harley’s statement was so confident, it took him a moment to process. “Why not?”

“You beat him,” Harley said simply. “He respects that.  He won’t challenge you again.”

“How are you so sure?” he couldn’t help asking.

She rolled her eyes at him. “It’s what I do.  Or did.  Trust me.”

Oddly, he found he did. “Do I owe you an answer now?”

“Nah, that was too easy, we’ll call it another freebie.” She chuckled. “Look at me, just givin’ away information for nothin.’  You’re makin’ me go soft, Bats.”

He smiled slightly at her. “I’ll make it up to you.”

She looked back at him shyly. “You already have.”

They finished drinking in a comfortable silence, and Bruce expected Harley to usher him out, as she usually did when she was tired.

But the night’s surprises weren’t quite over.

“Hey, um, you got anywhere to be right now, Bats?” she asked tentatively.

“No.” Tim was patrolling and Bruce wasn’t back to full functionality yet. “Why?”

Harley sounded more hesitant than he could remember. “Do you mind, maybe, stayin’ here for a bit?  I could use the company.”

Bruce was taken aback by the request, but not unpleasantly so.  With hardly any hesitation, he nodded.

“Thanks, I’m just gonna get ready for bed.” She got up and walked around the table, pausing to give him a cheeky grin. “No peakin’ alright?”

He made sure to keep his eyes forward, smiling ruefully at the fact that he was perfectly comfortable turning his back on Harley Quinn.

After bustling about and taking a trip to the bathroom, Harley called, “Alright, I’m decent.”

He turned.  Harley was sitting in bed wearing a ragged t-shirt and sleep shorts.  There wasn’t nearly enough space on the bed for both of them, and he would have felt ridiculous anyway, so he dragged over the chair to sit next to her.

“Thanks,” she said again. “Gets lonely here sometimes.  Makes it hard to sleep.”

She didn’t need to explain sleep difficulties to him.  “What helps?” he asked.

Harley considered the question. “Think you could tell me about some of the places you’ve been?  Somewhere not like here.”

Bruce had been many places that were much different than Gotham, and it took him a moment to think of one that felt just perfect.  Resting his elbows on his knees, he recalled the beautiful, stark splendor of the little Tibetan village in the Himalayas where he’d trained for several years.

Harley settled in on the bed, listening to him rapturously as he described the white mountains and the days spent trekking through snowy passes, scaling frozen cliffs, and sharing simple meals cooked over open fires in yurts and huts.  He told her about when they would hike down to some of the larger villages to trade before hauling their supplies back up to the icy steppes.

He told her about the days spent training at altitude to build his conditioning.  Sparring with swords on frozen lakes, performing katas on wires that stretched across cavernous ravines.  The thrill and the simplicity of it all, the way he’d grown stronger day after day.  And the small but wonderful feast they’d thrown him they day he’d left to return to Gotham.

At some point when Harley drifted into that fuzzy place between waking and sleeping, she reached out just a bit and took hold of his hand.  Even after she’d fallen asleep, her fingers remained curled around his.  Bruce made sure she was soundly asleep before getting up and gently drawing a blanket over her.  He switched off the lights, silently opened the window, and took one last look at her peaceful, sleeping form, before gliding off into the night.


	8. Interview

When the alarm clock went off, Harley immediately noticed something was different.  The last thing she recalled was drifting off while Batman’s deep, soothing voice described frozen tundras.  There was an empty chair next to her bed, but she remembered him bringing it over.  He’d apparently turned off the lights after she’d fallen asleep as well, but that didn’t surprise her; he was courteous like that.  What was it then, what was different?

She felt rested, that was it.  It had been so long since she’d gotten a decent night’s sleep that she’d completely forgotten what it felt like.  That constant tinge of exhaustion that made her eyes feel like they were being gradually crushed was gone, at least temporarily.  In its place was an odd, unfamiliar sense of peace.

The calm started to fade a bit as she contemplated the day ahead of her.  Whatever Bats said, she was still convinced that she was about to be fired.  She just didn’t see how yesterday’s events could be seen in a positive light.  But she resolved to face it as best she could, if for no other reason than to justify the faith Bats, Veronica, and Dr. Leland had shown her.  If she got the chance, she’d try to apologize to Wayne and explain that she’d gotten carried away.  That way, no matter what happened, she could tell her friends that she’d tried her best.

She went about her morning routine, doing her best to keep her mind occupied.  She wore the dress, to help calm her.  It probably wasn’t the best choice of garb for getting fired, but she needed all the help she could get.  On the train, she tried to focus on the stories Batman had told her last night.  She did her best to picture the views he’d described and imagine the feel of snow and ice crunching under her feet, the view of mountains stretching up miles into the sky.  She resolved that if she ever got the chance, she’d try to go, to experience such wonders for herself.

To her mild surprise, her entry card still worked when she arrived, and no guards stopped her on the way to the elevators.  The looks her coworkers gave her were still resentful, but Reynolds didn’t tell her to clear out her desk and security didn’t come to escort her from the building.  When she logged in to her computer, she had a full day’s docket waiting.

Maybe Wayne wasn’t in yet?  That was probably it.  He probably didn’t have to get in at nine like the rest of the workers.  He’d have a nice lie in, and have someone fire her once he got in.  Presumably around eleven or so.  Until then, she resolved to continue working as if it were a normal day.  That way she’d at least get another few hours on her last paycheck.

As if he’d known about her theory, the same suited man that had collected Wayne the day before showed up at her cubicle promptly at eleven.  He was a large man, even bigger than Wayne, and she immediately named him Muscles in her head.  In her old line of work, he was the type you’d send when someone wasn’t paying protection money on time.  She guessed they wanted to be safe in case she decided not to go quietly.

“Ms. Quinzel?” he said, his voice blandly polite.

She turned, taking a deep, steadying breath. “Yeah, that’s me.”

“Mr. Wayne would like to speak with you in his office, if you have a moment.”

So she was wrong, Wayne _was_ going to get rid of her himself.  That was surprising; she didn’t think he’d be the type to get his hands dirty.  Still, it gave her a chance to explain herself.  Not that it would matter.

“Sure thing,” she told Muscles. “I just gotta tell my supervisor.”

“No need,” he replied. “Mr. Reynolds has been informed.  Someone else will be assigned your docket.”

It was already decided then.  She was glad she’d brought no personal effects with her to work.  When they kicked her out, she wouldn’t have to come clear out her cubicle and see the triumphant expressions of Reynolds and her coworkers.  She could just leave and be done with the place.

With a sense of resignation, she followed Muscles to the elevator.  He pressed the button for the very top floor, keying in a code when prompted.  Of course, Wayne would have that kind of security preventing people from getting to his office.

It was a long elevator ride, and unlike Wayne, Muscles didn’t seem inclined to break the silence.  Harley used the extra time to rehearse what she would say to Wayne when she saw him.  She’d have to be polite, articulate, and humble.  Throw herself on her sword, eat crow, whatever metaphor you preferred.  Rich people liked sycophants, right, otherwise why would they surround themselves with so many?

The elevator doors finally opened into the most lavish reception area she’d ever seen in her life.  The ceiling was close to twenty feet above her, and the walls looked to be made of marble with gold inlay.  Artwork covered the walls, including what looked like a genuine freakin’ Monet.  Even the secretary’s desk, currently empty, was bigger than most CEOs.’

“If you’ll wait here, I’ll let them know you’ve arrived.” Muscles indicated a group of plush chairs. “Please help yourself to something to drink.”

He disappeared behind two monstrous oak doors that presumably lead to Wayne’s office.  Harley sank into a chair that was the most comfortable thing she’d ever sat in, and looked around at the drinks station.  There was water with cucumber and lemon, iced tea, a variety of juices, and an honest-to-God espresso machine.  She though about grabbing something, but as nervous as she felt, she worried she might accidentally drop it, and the glasses all looked like they were made from pure crystal.  The last thing she needed on top of getting fired was a bill for a ten thousand dollar drinking glass.

After a moment, Muscles emerged from the oak double doors, leaving one slightly ajar. “Mr. Wayne will see you now,” he told her.  To her surprise, he moved to sit behind the secretary’s desk.  Apparently, Wayne liked his security and calendars handled all together.

Feeling numb, she got up and walked to door Muscles had left open for her.  She slipped inside, gently pulling it shut behind her.

Wayne’s office was just as lavish as the reception area.  A full bar stocked with nothing but top shelf brands filled one entire wall, while a casual sitting area with tables and an elaborate chess set adorned the other side.  Similarly expensive artwork was displayed prominently on the walls.  But the coup de grace was behind Wayne’s desk.

Floor to ceiling windows overlooked Gotham, giving an incredible view of the entire city.  It made her think forcibly of a king surveying his domain.  Two doors led to balconies on either side of the window.

She was so engrossed with these features that she didn’t even notice Wayne himself until he stood and walked around his desk to greet her.

“Ms. Quinzel, it’s great to see you again,” he said with a smile. “Thanks for coming.”

As he led her over to one of the seats facing his desk, she realized that she wasn’t his only guest.  A tall man with graying hair who Harley recognized instantly rose from the other seat.

“Ms. Quinzel, this is Lucius Fox.  He’s the one who actually runs the company.” Bruce gave an effortlessly self-deprecating smile. “Lucius, Harleen Quinzel.”

So, Wayne wanted an official witness, in case she decided to make a legal fuss when they got rid of her.  Smart.

Fox gave a courteous smile that looked much less fake than Wayne’s practiced grin. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Dr. Quinzel.” He extended a hand.

“Same,” Harley said shaking his hand, although she felt obliged to add. “But it’s not really ‘Doctor’ anymore.”

Fox raised a curious eyebrow. “I wasn’t aware that Gotham University had rescinded your degrees.”

She was feeling extremely off balance. “They haven’t, but I don’t practice anymore.” She hadn’t even put either of her doctorates on her resume when she applied to Wayne Enterprises.

“That still doesn’t stop you being a doctor.” Fox leaned in conspiratorially, much like Wayne had the day before. “And between you and me, I think you’ll find people around here get a little pretentious about titles.  Best to use every advantage you have.”

Harley nodded, not sure how else to respond as Wayne drew out a chair for her.  He and Fox waited until she was seated before joining her, and she felt absurdly like she was at some old-fashioned high society function.

She knew she should wait until Wayne said something before she tried to make her apology.  That way she could respond specifically to his issues.  That was the plan, at any rate.

Her mouth had other ideas.

“Look, I’m really sorry about yesterday,” she burst out, “I didn’t mean to go off like that, I just got caught up, you know, I wasn’t tryin’ to be inappropriate or critical or anythin’ I just figured you should know about some of the problems I saw so you could fix ‘em, and I’m really sorry and I swear I won’t do it again.”

She finally managed to get herself to shut up and sank back into her seat, face burning with shame.

Wayne looked bewildered. “I’m not sure I’m following you Ms. Quinzel.  What are you apologizing for, exactly?”

Harley frowned. “You know, for spendin’ all that time pickin’ apart your security.  I figured you’d be mad.”

Wayne exchanged a bemused look with Fox. “Mad?  Why would I be mad?  I really appreciated you taking so much time to show me these issues.  I wanted to thank you for that.”

“Uh, you’re welcome,” Harley said, and before she could stop herself. “So you’re not gonna fire me?”

Wayne gave a laugh that sounded completely genuine. “Why on Earth would I fire you?  You did us a huge favor.  In fact, I was hoping we could get a bit more of your advice.”

Fox leaned forward and handed her a tablet. “Do you mind looking at a few of these layouts and telling us what improvements you think could be made?”

It all became clear to her in that moment.  They weren’t going to fire her, because they could still get use out of her.  Harley imagined that there would be many such meetings like this to come.  She’d be asked to come up to Wayne’s fancy office, look over some security plans and make a few suggestions.  Afterwards, she’d be thanked and sent back down to her cubicle with her hostile coworkers.  Free labor.

Still, it was better than nothing, and far better than she’d been expecting, so she took the tablet from Fox and started glancing through its contents.

She took her time examining the various floor plans, guard rotations, camera configurations, and other items they’d provided her.  She knew this whole arrangement would only continue as long as the information she gave them was good; otherwise they’d just cut her loose.

Once she was confident in her assessments, she laid the tablet on the desk and began describing the issues she’d identified.

“Well for one thing, your guard rotations need some work.  It looks like they’re set up for maximum coverage, but that’s really only effective if you’re expectin’ a single intruder.  If someone’s breakin’ into a place like this, you’re way more likely to have a crew, and probably a big one.  They’ll wanna hit as many things as possible while they’re here.  In that case they’re not gonna try to be sneaky, they’re gonna cut the cameras and overwhelm guards by force.  You see what I’m gettin’ at?  You want a rotation that keeps your guards close to each other so they can give some back up.”

Fox was taking notes, which Harley took as a good sign, so she continued. “Some of these security systems that you got aren’t the best either.  Riddler put out a hack a few years ago that runs right past ‘em without any signs of tampering.  You really wanna go for the Queen industries brands; those are nightmare to get around.”

This continued for the better part of an hour.  Wayne listened raptly while Fox wrote down each of her suggestions.  She managed to relax after a while and, remembering what she’d told Batman, just enjoy the challenge itself.

When she finished, Wayne looked questioningly at Fox.  The distinguished CEO gave a small nod.

“Right,” Wayne said briskly, turning back to Harley. “I really can’t tell you how helpful this has been Ms. Quinzel.  How would you feel about doing this kind of work a little more regularly?”

Just as Harley had suspected.  She shrugged nonchalantly. “I guess I wouldn’t mind that.”

He smiled broadly. “Fantastic.  Here’s our proposal.  We can bring you on as a Senior Security Consultant and Risk Analyst.  After a standard six-month probationary period, you’d be on a permanent, non-exclusive contract.  This is our starting salary offer.”

He slid a piece of paper across the desk to Harley, who picked it up and unfolded it to see a very large number scrawled inside.  She looked up at Wayne, and then to Fox, feeling like her brain was stuck in molasses.

“Wait,” she said stupidly, “what’s going on right now?”

Wayne and Fox exchanged amused grins. “We’re offering you a job, Dr. Quinzel,” Fox said paternally. “We employ a number of in-house security experts to work with our various industries.  Surely someone of your talents must be getting bored with data entry?”

“Well, yeah, but you guys can’t be serious.” She couldn’t believe this was happening. “You really want me workin’ security for you?  What’re all your clients gonna think when they hear Harley Quinn’s handling security for ‘em?”

“They’re gong to be nervous at first,” Fox replied honestly. “And once they see your suggestions and how well they work, they’ll realize how lucky they are to have Dr. Harleen _Quinzel_ ,” there was a pronounced emphasis on her last name, “working with them.”

She looked back and forth between them, waiting for one to crack. “I…you’re not kidding, are you?  You’d really trust me with that kind of thing?”

Wayne leaned forward earnestly. “Ms. Quinzel, I’m a big believer in rehabilitative justice.  That’s why we have the policy here about hiring former convicts.  Your doctor at Arkham has endorsed your recovery unequivocally.  We’d be idiots not to take advantage of your abilities.”

She felt numb; she had no idea how she’d gone from being certain that they would fire her, to being offered a job making more money than she had as a practicing psychiatrist.  The whole thing was crazy, it had to be some kind of joke.  But both businessmen looked perfectly honest and waiting expectantly on her response.

It finally occurred to her that maybe her criminal background was good for something other than a source of constant shame and guilt.  Perhaps something positive could come of it.  But with that thought came another; one of Joker’s mantras that he’d drilled into all of his henchmen.

_Never accept the first offer_.

Projecting a confidence she didn’t at all feel, she replied, “I want twenty K more.”

Neither of the men were put off by her request. “You don’t have any formal experience in security, Dr. Quinzel,” Fox pointed out. “We can give you five thousand extra.  Plus the standard expense account.”

“I’ve got plenty of experience with security,” Harley said bluntly. “I spent seven years robbin’ places like this.  Pretty successfully too.  Find me someone else with that kinda knowhow.  Fifteen K.”

“Thirteen thousand,” Fox countered. “And a one time five thousand hiring bonus.”

Harley pretended to think it over, but it was a foregone conclusion.  She’d have taken half what they were offering happily and skipped all the way back to the Narrows. “Deal,” she said.

“Fantastic!” Wayne beamed and shook her hand enthusiastically. “Lucius will work out all the details with you.”

Fox glanced at his watch. “Would you care to continue our conversation over lunch?  It’s Japanese today, and I’m rather partial to our chef’s ramen.”

Harley was still feeling a bit dazed. “Sure thing.  I’ll need to stop off an’ grab my lunch first.”

Fox looked at her in puzzlement. “Are you on a diet of some kind?  The commissary has quite a few options.”

She felt a flush spread across her face. “No, it ain’t that.  I can’t afford lunch right now.  Unless you’re gonna start that expense account right away.”

Fox’s mouth twitched as he suppressed a smile. “While we certainly could, there’s no need.  All our employees eat free.”

Harley’s jaw dropped in surprise. “For real?”

“For real,” Wayne confirmed with a grin of his own. “Supervisors are supposed to tell new employees about their perks.  Did Reynolds never mention it?”

She frowned petulantly. “No.  The man’s kind of an asshole.”

Fox and Wayne’s laughter echoed around the cavernous office.


	9. Checking In

Lucius had Harley wait in the reception area on the pretense of wrapping up some business with Bruce.

“What do you think?” Bruce asked once she was gone, dropping the billionaire playboy act.

“She brilliant,” Lucius replied, looking down at his notes. “It’s no wonder the Joker was so good at heists if she was helping him.  Do you realize we were approaching security as if we trying to defend against someone like the Batman?  Everything was based around the assumption of a single intruder.  It’s so obvious now that she pointed it out.”

Bruce nodded. “Agreed.  Hopefully she’ll be able to catch more blind spots like that.”

Lucius gave him a sly glance. “And now you won’t have to dress up to visit her.”

Bruce groaned. “You and Alfred need to stop gossiping about me.”

Lucius just laughed.

 ***

Bruce kept a close, if surreptitious eye on Harley the rest of the day via Wayne Tower’s security cameras.  After how strongly she’d reacted to yesterday’s interaction, he wanted to make sure she was doing alright.  She seemed fine, aside from the stunned expression that never quite left her face.  Lucius got her squared away with payroll, and accompanied her to inform Reynolds that she would be transitioning into her new role, effective immediately.  Bruce relished the expression on Reynolds’ face as he heard the news.  He’d been looking for an excuse to fire the man for a year now, but he was surprisingly good at keeping his behavior just on the right side of tolerable.

There were obviously no security cameras in peoples’ actual offices, so he couldn’t see Harley’s reaction when she saw her new workspace.  The look on her face was pretty priceless when Lucius introduced her to her administrative assistant though.  By the end of the day she’d recovered enough to chat a bit with the young woman, who had been appraised beforehand of her new boss.  She was understandably a little nervous, but Bruce was confident that Harley would soon win her over.

At the end of the day, Bruce donned the Batsuit and shadowed Harley home, just to be safe.  Unlike the previous day, she stopped off at the gym, which he took as a good sign.  He waited until she had entered her apartment building before letting himself into her kitchen.

She still looked slightly dazed when she flicked on the lights and saw him standing here.  She just stared at him, brow slightly furrowed.

“How did it go?” he asked. “Did they get rid of you?”

“No,” she replied in confusion. “They promoted me.  And gave me a _lot_ of money.”

He smiled faintly. “Congratulations.”

She shook herself out of her daze and kicked off her shoes. “Gotta tell ya, Bats, I did not see that one coming.”

“Walk me through it.”

He sat at the table while she wandered absently around her kitchen, throwing together a sandwich with whatever she happened to grab.  She told him about the unusual interview, the job offer, and her new responsibilities.  Having been there, it was somewhat fascinating to hear the events from her perspective.  He was particularly entertained by her impression of Bruce Wayne.

“And my office, you gotta see my office, Bats!” She plopped down across from him with the most unusual sandwich he’d ever seen. “I got a window.  I ain’t ever had a window anyplace I worked before!  And a secretary, or admin assistant, or whatever you call ‘em these days.  She’s real sweet, but I think she might be a bit scared of me.  Don’t know how they found someone willin’ to work with me.  Maybe I should bring her coffee tomorrow or something?  Do people do that with their assistants?  Or will that make it seem like I’m hittin’ on her?  She was pretty cute, but that’s probably not a smart idea with a new job.  I did always think it’d be fun to be one of those big shots who sleeps with his secretaries, even though he’s all old and stuff.  That’d be takin’ advantage though.”

Bruce struggled against a grin as Harley went on and on, taking huge bites out of her horrifying sandwich occasionally. “Do you think you’ll enjoy it?” he asked during one such break in her ramblings.

She frowned around a mouthful of lettuce, pickles, and peanut butter. “I don’t know, Bats.  I mean, maybe.” Abruptly her face crumpled, and she suddenly looked quite miserable.

He leaned forward in concern. “What’s wrong?”

“It just don’t feel like it can last, you know?  Nothin’ good ever does.  I graduate with my degrees, get a job I really wanted at Arkham, next think you know I’m some psycho clown’s accomplice.  I get released from the Asylum the first time, and I immediately fuck up my parole.  Second time, I’m only a few months out and I get offered this amazing job, and I got two really good friends.” Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. “There’s just no way the universe is gonna let me have this.”

Bruce struggled to figure out what to say to that.  He knew better than most that sometimes the universe took away far more than it gave.  But he also knew that there was always light in the darkness.

“I think I see something different than you do,” he began. “I see someone who wanted to help people and was taken advantage of.  Someone who defied her abuser and took back her life.  I see someone who didn’t let a mistake break her.  I see someone who is resilient, and kind, and selfless.  And I think, no matter what challenges the universe has in store for you, you’ll be strong enough to meet them.”

Harley didn’t look at him as he spoke, but she blew out a shaky breath. “You definitely know how to make a girl feel better, Bats.  Thanks.”

“Anytime.”

She smiled and took another bite of her sandwich before frowning. “What the hell did I put in here?” she mumbled, rushing over to the trash to spit out the mouthful. “Ugh.  Were you watching what I was doing?” He nodded. “Why didn’t you stop me then?  Pretty sure I could go to jail for feedin’ someone this.”

“I thought maybe you had odd taste,” he replied with a smirk.

“Oh ha ha, very funny.  Jesus, I gotta go wash my mouth out now.”

He allowed himself a brief laugh as she disappeared into the bathroom.  He heard her gargling mouthwash for much longer than was necessary before returning.

“You know if you keep developin’ a sense of humor, I’m gonna have to do somethin’ about it,” she warned, making another, slightly less insane sandwich.

“So noted,” he said dryly as he stood up. “I have some things to take care of tonight.  I’ll visit again soon.”

“Alright.” Harley seemed to debate something with herself for a moment.  Then she leaned up, grabbed the back of his head, and pulled him in for a kiss.  It was quick, but soft and set his heart racing with surprise. “Thanks.”

“For what?” he asked, reeling a bit.

Her eyes sparkled. “For the dress.”


	10. Takoyaki

A lot of things changed for Harley in the weeks that followed.  For one, she was no longer so poor that she had to pinch pennies over every expense.  The signing bonus especially brought her some breathing room she desperately needed for reasons she was hesitant to share with even Batman or Veronica. 

She tried not to go crazy when she got her first paycheck, mindful that even a lot of money could disappear very quickly if she didn’t pay attention.  Still, she let herself splurge a bit.  For one she started buying higher quality groceries, reasoning it was a worthwhile investment.  She also went on a brief shopping spree, buying some new books for once, and a larger shelf to fit them all.  To round it all off, she had Veronica help her update her wardrobe a bit.  She figured some nicer clothes were probably in order for her fancy new job.

Said fancy new job was proving to be an interesting experience.  In the end she had decided to get her new assistant Stacy coffee the first morning, as a friendly gesture, only to have Stacy react in bewilderment.  This had led to some rather confused apologies from both of them, and it took a while to sort out that _Stacy_ expected to the be the one getting coffee, not the other way around.  They’d managed to have a laugh about it eventually, and Harley tried not to think of it as an omen.

Lucius, who at some point had stopped being just “Fox” to her, explained that she was part of a loose team made up of other security experts and specialists who reported directly to him.  They handled a number of issues for Wayne Enterprises and a stunning variety of subsidiaries, contractors, and clients.  In practice, each of Harley’s new coworkers tended to have a specialty, whether cybersecurity, emergency management, or guard training.  However, she was something of an anomaly, as her particular background had given her a rather unique set of skills and aptitudes, which her work reflected. 

Much like her time doing data entry, she arrived every day to a docket of tasks, only this time the tasks were far more stimulating.  Similar to her interview/audition, she was typically tasked with assessing potential threats or dangers to buildings, individuals, or even caravans carrying sensitive material.  She found the work remarkably engaging.  It allowed her to draw on a deep skill set built up during her time with the Joker, but without the attendant guilt of actually committing crimes.  In fact, she felt surprisingly productive.

Eventually, Lucius told her she’d be meeting directly with clients and working to meet their security needs, but he wanted to first give her a chance to get adjusted.  She was thankful for that, as the prospect of such interactions caused her a decent bit of anxiety.

All in all, it was new, exciting, stimulating, and occasionally terrifying.

Yet for all that changed, a surprising amount stayed the same.

She opted to stay in her apartment for a bit before deciding whether to move someplace nicer; it was cheap after all and she’d gotten used to it.  She also continued to ride the train, figuring it was probably quicker than driving, knowing Gotham traffic.  She went to the same gym, and kept herself to a single night of takeout, mostly for health reasons now.  On the weekends, she met with Veronica, who refused to let her pay for lunches, despite the fact that Harley could now afford it.  She still visited her babies in the Zoo, telling herself they were excited for her and her new job.

And she continued to receive regular visits from a certain, mysterious masked man.

Batman dropped by at least once a week, usually more.  Sometimes his visits were short, just quick stops on the way to somewhere else, and sometimes they were over an hour long.  Every now and then the strangeness of their friendship sent her into fits of laughter.  The idea that, after so many years spent fighting one another, they’d now be so close was almost as bizarre as her infatuation with the Joker himself.

She still wondered occasionally whether having him in her life was really a good thing.  The whole point was to avoid slipping back into old behaviors, and Batman was a reminder of many things she wanted to forget.  On the other hand, the idea of not seeing him anymore immediately sent her into a panic.  To her surprise, when she finally got up the nerve to admit this to Dr. Leland, she wholeheartedly endorsed their friendship.  She would never be completely normal, not after everything that had happened to her.  If she was to retain a piece of her old life, why not have it be someone as positive as Batman?

Harley wasn’t convinced Batman was as positive as Dr. Leland thought, but if she was honest, it didn’t really matter one way or the other.  The fact was that she needed him, and nothing short of death or incarceration was going to make her stop him coming through her window.

That or the days she needed some privacy.

Luckily, they’d worked out a better communication system than curtains.  One of her first purchases after getting the signing bonus was a cellphone.  She went a little nuts, buying one with more features than she really needed, but she’d always thought smartphones were cool, and Joker had never let her get one.

This meant they were now able to contact one another.  Bats wasn’t much one for texting, but he would let her know whether he planned to stop by, if she asked.  One Sunday, shortly after she’d started the new job, she sent him a request that he wait until nine to visit.  He responded in the affirmative, giving her just enough time to put together a little surprise.

“Hey, Bats,” she called over her shoulder when she heard him enter. “Perfect timing, it’s almost ready!”

“What is?” he asked curiously as he sat down.  She knew he was probably surveying the disaster zone that was her kitchen after three hours spent laboring over her project.

“Takoyaki!” She spun around triumphantly, holding a plate of fried snacks.  She set the plate down in front of him and made a show of sprinkling a few more bonito flakes over the top. “Took me a while, but I think I got it right!”

Batman stared at the plate, his mouth slightly ajar.  She giggled at the expression; in ten years she’d only seen him speechless twice.  The first was a time that Joker had pied him in the face before promptly surrendering, and the second what after he’d given her the dress and she’d kissed him.

“How did you even…?” His question trailed off as he looked at the dish.

“Wasn’t easy, I gotta tell ya,” she admitted. “You couldn’ta picked somethin’ simple like fried chicken, could ya?  First I had to figure out what the hell you said.  I went to a Japanese place over on 97th street, but the guy couldn’t understand me.  I spent some time on Google, but it didn’t like whatever word I was typin’ either.  I couldn’t figure it out until I ran across some Japanese cookbooks with pictures.

“Then I had to find all the ingredients.  There’s a lotta good Asian markets in this city, but still Bats, a couple of those things were pretty hard to find.  Of course there was the pan too, I had to just order that online, cuz people don’t tend to make fried things that way.”

She finally became aware that she was rambling, and that while she’d given him a play by play of the last two weeks of searching, he’d consumed half the plate.

“Is it okay then?” she asked nervously.

“Amazing,” he said quietly, examining one of the little snacks closely. “This is impossible to find in the States.  There’s no demand for it.  Even real Japanese restaurants hardly make it.  And I can never convince Al – my friends to try.”

Harley was intensely aware that he had come closer to letting slip something about himself than ever before.  She did her best to cover up her shock and gloss right over it, in case he became nervous and fled.

“Well I’m glad,” she said briskly. “I ain’t much of a seafood gal, so it was hard to tell if it was any good.”

“It’s excellent.” He looked up at her, and she was surprised by the look in his eyes. “Thank you.”

“Anytime, Bats.  Well, not _anytime_ ,” she qualified. “This took a while to make and cost a pretty penny.  Special occasions maybe.”

“I can pay you back,” he offered.

Harley laughed. “No way.  It’s called a gift.  I wanted to do something nice for you.  Like how you’re always bein’ nice to me.  And I thought about buyin’ you a dress, but I don’t know your size, and you seem to have your wardrobe all figured out anyway, so this seemed like a better idea?”

“Yes,” he said, relishing another bite. “Yes it is.”


	11. Joker's Wild

Harley had been preoccupied for a while.  She didn’t say anything, but Bruce could tell.  He knew it wasn’t her new job, because she told him all about it.  It obviously wasn’t without its sources of stress and uncertainty, but she was open about those.  Her first client meeting had been extremely nerve-wracking, despite going relatively well.  And the couple times she’d messed up on paperwork had caused some anxiety.

At the same time, he also knew that she was enjoying the work even more than she’d expected, and that Lucius had been extremely understanding with her mistakes.  On the whole she seemed to be doing very well.  And yet, there was something unspoken that kept causing her eyes to go distant, or her attention to wander.

He thought about just asking, but he was still uncertain about the boundaries of their relationship.  They were friends now, he had no illusions about that, but he wasn’t quite sure what it meant for them to be friends.  It occurred to him that he had very few, and most of those were wrapped up in his double life as a vigilante.  He and Oracle never talked about their day jobs, or their favorite foods.  They didn’t discuss places they’d visited, or books they’d read.  The whole thing was such unfamiliar territory that he found himself oddly scared to do anything that might upset the comfortable dynamic they’d established.

Of course, it was all completely absurd; that he should be so concerned about the wellbeing of Joker’s former right-hand woman.  The fact that he was, and that he’d accepted that Harley mattered to him didn’t stop him from laughing on occasion at the weirdness of his life.  It was hard not to wonder if Joker wasn’t right about them both being insane.

Unfortunately, that thought led inevitably to the next.  He knew why he cared about Harley, and it had nothing to do with keeping his enemies close, or what she represented to his crusade.  He liked her, plain and simple, and he wanted her to be happy.  But why did _she_ like _him_?  Why did her face light up when climbed in her window; why did she confide so much in him?  Why did she display such an interest in his life, in who he was?

The first explanation was that she simply didn’t have anyone else, but that didn’t really make sense.  Harley had a reputation, but in a city as big as Gotham if wouldn’t be _that_ hard to find someone who didn’t care, or even didn’t know about her past.  That didn’t really explain her interest in him.

He knew part of it was because he’d been kind to her in difficult moments.  After years of being treated terribly, she was latching onto someone who treated her well.  But then again, she wasn’t latching onto Veronica to the same extent as him, and she’d been just as nice, arguably more so.

In his gut, he knew what it was that drew her to him.  It was his contrast with the Joker; their differences and their similarities.  They were reflections, each defined by the other.  It only made sense that, as she attempted to distance herself from the Joker, she would fall into the orbit of his opposite.  She’d avoided recidivism so far in all areas but one; her attachment to the dangerous figures of Gotham’s underworld.

Perhaps the reason he chose not to ask why she was distracted, was because he was afraid that she was beginning to realize that too.

These thoughts were running through his head one night during one of his longer visits.  Harley was busy regaling him with the details of her newest client; a challenging contract from a defense company with very particular needs.  Luckily this didn’t require him to respond too much, as he wasn’t sure he’d be the best conversationalist.

Not that she’d mind anyway; she was used to his silence by now and tended to tease him for it.  Although tonight there was an undercurrent of nervousness that he struggled to put his finger on.  Eventually he just put it down to her desire to do well with the new client.

“I was actually thinkin,’” she said contemplatively at one point, “it’s been a while since we had a consultation ourselves.  Whaddya think, feel up to it tonight?”

Her question caught him by surprise; he hadn’t thought about their deal in a while. “Are you sure?  It sounds like you had a long day?”

“Yeah but my head’s kinda in the space for it.” She smiled reassuringly, but there was something unconvincing about it. “So how ‘bout it?  Feel like figurin’ out some crazy people?”

He was eager to take her up on the offer, but he’d been struggling to figure out who else to ask about.  She had offered three “consultations,” and he didn’t want to waste any of them.  The problem was, a number of the super villains weren’t extremely complicated.  Firefly liked fire, what else was there to talk about?  Penguin was basically just a mob boss without even the vaguest hint of a moral compass.  Tough, but not impossible to deal with, as Bruce had proven two years ago by finally putting him away for good.  Aside from Riddler, who had eluded him for years, and Harvey, who was a friend, there weren’t as many criminals that truly vexed him.

Except for one.  The one he couldn’t ask about, because he couldn’t do that to her.

Harley was looking at him expectantly, and he blurted out the first name that came to his mind. “Black Mask.”

Harley’s brow furrowed. “Interestin’ choice.  Roman Sionis.  Gotta be honest, I don’t know a ton about him.  They could never prove he was crazy, so he always got sent to Blackgate.  From what I’ve heard, he’s a real sadist.  He loves violence and torture about as much as Mistah J.  ‘Cept with Joker it was always to prove a point.  Sionis just likes it.  Didn’t matter who it was, if he didn’t like ‘em, they were dead.”

Bruce nodded. “What about the mask?  Isn’t that unusual for an ordinary criminal?”

Harley shrugged. “Well he wasn’t really _ordinary_ , but if you mean he didn’t dress up like a clown, then yeah, I guess a bit.  I mean a lotta criminals wear masks, don’t they? Hell _you_ wear a mask.  His was just fancier, which makes sense cuz he was all into the finer things in life.  Why, what were you getting at?”

“I’m wondering about the symbolism of it,” Bruce tried to explain. “Masks have power.  That’s why I didn’t just use a helmet, even though it would be more practical.  Do you think I inspired Black Mask?”

“I don’t see how.  Wasn’t he active before you came back to Gotham?  He was the first big boss you went after.  I remember, that was right when-” She stopped speaking abruptly and narrowed her eyes at him. “You aren’t talkin’ about Sionis, are you?”

“I am,” he insisted, trying to ignore the swooping sensation in his stomach. “His obsessions intensified when I went after him the first time.  He became more fixated.”

“That wasn’t because of you, and you know it.” Harley’s voice was solid as a block of granite. “Sionis went crazy after Joker took over his operation.  I know.  I met people who worked for him.  He got it in his head the reason he lost was because he wasn’t as out there as you two.”

“Then the question still stands,” Bruce countered, trying to steer the conversation away from Joker. “Did I make him what he is?”

“How could you?  It was Joker who tore apart everythin’ he built and forced him to start over with nothing.” Harley looked at him with fire in his eyes. “Why don’t you just ask what we both know you really wanna?  Instead of tiptoein’ around the bushes like this?”

“I didn’t want to force you to think about something you don’t want t-” he tried to explain.

“ _I’ll_ decide what I do and don’t wanna think about,” Harley cut across. “So just spit it out already.”

He let out a sigh of defeat. “Is the Joker my fault?  Am I responsible for him?”

She answered immediately, and he knew this wasn’t the first time she’d thought about the very same questions. “I honestly don’t know, Bats.  I really wish I could give you a better answer, but I’m not sure.  I used to think he was the way he was because of you.  It was hard not to, you’re all he ever talked about.  I thought that if we could get rid of you, then he’d be fine.”

“Do you still?” He wasn’t sure he wanted to hear the answer, but she didn’t hesitate.

“No.  He is who he is.  Nothing’s gonna change that except for _him_ , and I’m pretty sure he’s happy how he is.” There was an unmistakable look of sadness in her eyes. “If you disappeared tomorrow, he’d probably just find somethin’ else to entertain him.”

“He says I made him.”

Harley shrugged. “No one knows where he came from, includin’ me.  And whatever you may’ve done to him, that don’t excuse what _he_ does to people now.  He thinks we’re all just a bunch of lunatics, and that makes it okay for him to fuck over whoever he wants.  You ain’t responsible for how he behaves.

“You _are_ responsible for not droppin’ him off a bridge though.”

Bruce blinked at her in surprise. “You know I don’t kill.”

She waved an impatient hand. “Yeah, I know, your one big rule.  And I get why you have it, Bats, I really do.  I’m sure Gordon wouldn’t work with you if you went around poppin’ every criminal you met.  But after a while, you _had_ to get that Joker wasn’t your everyday run-of-the-mill criminal.  You coulda saved a lotta people some pain and suffering.”

“That’s what he wanted,” Bruce objected. “I couldn’t cross that line.”

“Why?” she asked bluntly. “Because it was too hard?  Cuz I got news for you, I knew a bunch of people who made it look easy.”

“Of course it’s easy!” Bruce hissed between his teeth. “That’s the point!  I’ve been _desperate_ to kill him for years now!  It would be the easiest thing in the world!  Every time I see him, I have to stop myself from snapping his filthy neck for everything he’s done.  That’s the point!  He’s not the only mad dog in this place, and if I kill him, where does it stop?  How do I keep myself from going after every killer and rapist in this whole damn city?  I can’t afford to find out what’s on the other side of that line.”

Harley looked at him steadily through his rant. “I gotta be honest with you, Bats, if it’s that thin a line to begin with, maybe you outta ask yourself if you should still be doin’ this.”

He slumped in his seat. “I do.  Every day.  Every time I see you or drive by the Memorial for the Fallen, I think I should have just stayed away.  Disappeared into the Himalayas and never come back.”

Harley’s expression softened, and she leaned across the table to squeeze his hand. “Look Bats, I’m glad you’re here, I really am.  You know I was goin’ through citywide crime reports for the last ten years, and even with all the crazies like Joker, Gotham is still safer than it ever was?  We might even get bumped down to number two next year!  I don’t blame you for what the Joker did to me.  It was my choice to join up with him, and I gotta live with that.  It’s just, every now and then, I wish you’d’ve taken him out before I ever met him.  But then I wish I had too.”

Bruce took a deep breath and squeezed her hand back. “Thank you, Harley.  It’s hard not to question what I do sometimes.”

“I’d think you were crazy if you didn’t.  I certainly question you sometimes.” She smiled reassuringly and leaned back. “But when it comes to the Joker, I don’t got a quick solution for you like Harvey.  Without me it’s gonna be a lot harder for him to get outta Arkham, but you never know.  There ain’t anyone else like him.”

Bruce looked at her, noting the melancholic tone of her voice. “Did you love him?” he asked bluntly.

Now it was Harley’s turn to take a steadying breath. “I’m not sure.  I was definitely infatuated with him.  He told me not to care what other people thought of me.  I thought he wanted me to be free.  Be whoever I wanted to be, you know?  I woulda taken a bullet for him.  But I’m not sure I loved him.  Personally, I think you gotta _know_ someone in order to really love them, and I was in denial about who he was for a long time.”

“Why did you leave him?” It was something he’d always wondered.

Harley looked at him soberly. “I’ll tell you someday.  But not tonight.” She hitched a smile on her face that looked mostly genuine. “Right now it’s my turn to ask you something.”

Bruce accepted this graciously and nodded for her to continue.

“Did you really sleep with Catwoman?”

“Um…” He knew that their deal allowed her to ask personal questions, but there was personal and then there was _personal_.  But he was obligated to answer. “Yes.” And before he could stop himself, “How did you know?”

“She was always bragging about her conquests.  No one really believed it, but she swore it was true.  Were you with her a while?” There was something clinical and detached about the way Harley asked the question.

He shook his head. “It was just the once.  A long time ago.”

“One night stand, huh?  Was it a long night at the bar?” Her eyes sparkled with mirth.

“No, that wasn’t it.” He thought about reminding her that it was just supposed to be one question.  But he found that he wanted to clarify, to make her understand why it had happened. “I was…lonely.  Doing what I do…there aren’t a lot of opportunities for personal connections.  She was helping me take down a ring of ivory smugglers shipping into Gotham.  I thought, maybe she understood what it was like.  I hoped she could be something more.”

Harley was empathetic. “But she didn’t?”

“No.  She likes this life.  She couldn’t understand why I wanted to be anything other than the Batman.” He couldn’t hide the bitterness the memories brought.

“Did you tell her who you were?”

“No.  And she never asked.  I don’t think she cared.”

“And you haven’t been with no one since?”

He gave a minute twitch of his head.

Harley winced sympathetically. “That’s rough.  Longest dry spell I ever had was with Joker, before I left him for Ivy.”

Bruce looked at her in surprise. “You mean you and Joker weren’t…?”

“Nope,” she said. “He was very asexual.  Never even kissed me.  Pretty sure I was just another one of the guys as far as he was concerned.”

Bruce found that more than a little interesting.  She’d previously mentioned that Joker never cared much about sexual violence, but Bruce had assumed that was more personal preference than because of a lack of interest in sex.  It cast a whole different light on Harley’s relationship with the Joker.  Bruce and his allies had always just assumed they were sleeping together.  It didn’t change any of the crimes they committed, but it was fascinating nonetheless.

Harley had given him a lot to think about, and he was starting to feel a bit tired.  He figured he’d do one last sweep of the city before returning the manor. “Were you curious about anything else?” he asked.

She pursed her lips, as if thinking, but then shook her head.

“I can make it back in a few days,” he said as he stood.  He hesitated a bit before leaving. “Thank you, Harley.  For sharing everything you did about the Joker.  I know wasn’t easy, but I appreciate it.  You should know, you’re not defined by him.  You _are_ free to be your own person.”

She looked up at him with an expression he couldn’t read but didn’t say anything.  He turned to leave.

“Wait, Bats!”

He looked back around.  Harley was standing next to the table, fiddling with a seam of her dress, the one he’d given her.  She looked nervous; almost as much as when she’d arrived at his office for the interview.

“I got…s-somethin’ I wanted to ask you,” she stammered.

“What is it?” he asked, concerned.

He saw her gulp and then resolve herself to whatever she’d been planning to do.  With a couple quick, fumbling motions she slid the straps of the dress off her shoulders and let it pool around her feet.

His eyes widened in shock as she stood there, clad in nothing but a pair of extremely lacy, extremely small black undergarments.  He couldn’t help letting his gaze travel over her nearly bare body, from her strong, muscled legs, across the narrow strip of fabric between her thighs, over her barely contained bust, and up to the flush that extended from her neck to her cheeks.

“Look, um…” Left without a dress to fiddle with, she’d clasped her hands in front of her, inadvertently pushing her breasts together even more. “Like I said, it’s been a while for me.  Three years since Ivy, you know, and a buncha years before that.  That kinda time can get a girl a bit frustrated.  I’ve been tryin’ to get back out there a bit, you know meet some people.  I, uh, went on a few dates, and they didn’t go so well.  People got freaked out, or I did, and nothin’ really happened.”

She gulped visibly again and the color of her cheeks deepened. “So I was thinkin’ about it, and I thought, you know we seem to like each other, and maybe we could…I don’t know, help each other out a bit?  Cuz if you’re not getting’ any, and I’m not getting’ any, it sorta made sense to me.  We seem to get along, and I figure you won’t ask me to do anything I don’t feel like.

“If you’re worried,” she hurried on, turning to grab some papers and a container off the counter and giving him a quick, unexpected view of her mostly bare butt, “I got myself tested the other week just to be safe, and I got the papers here.  I know you’re all responsible, so you’re probably clean, but I got condoms too, just in case.  I’m also on the pill, but I wouldn’t be upset either way.  Or we don’t gotta have sex, if that’s too soon, we could just get each other off, you know.

“But we don’t have to!” Her face was a deep scarlet now. “I just wanted to throw it out there in case you were interested.  If you’re not, I won’t be offended or anything, we can just go back to bein’ friends and forget this ever happened.  So, um, yeah.” She finally ran out of things to say. “What d’you think?”

Harley stood there, hands balled up at her sides, looking more beautiful than anyone Bruce had ever seen, waiting on his answer…


	12. With Benefits (NSFW)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now hitting the explicit part of the story, so be warned!

Harley needed to get laid.

Not in the casual “It’d be great to get laid,” sort of way that many people described their desire for sex.

No, Harley _needed_ to get laid.  In a desperate, about to explode kind of way.

She wasn’t a sex addict or anything, she wasn’t going to put herself in danger just to have sex, but she might start screaming in frustration before long.

The problems had a lot to do with the circumstances of the previous nine years.  Prior to joining Joker, she’d enjoyed a perfectly normal series of relationships that most people in their twenties would relate to.  Aside from her comfort with any biological or social gender expression, there was nothing particularly memorable or crazy about her love life.  That said, she was generally used to not going longer than a few months without having an partner.

After becoming Harley Quinn, things had changed somewhat.

Joker, being the canny manipulator that he was, had not let her on to his general disinterest in all things romantic prior to her breaking him out of Arkham.  Up to that point, he led her on with subtle little hints and comments designed perfectly to woo her.  Afterwards, once it was clear that she was fully committed to him, he dropped all pretense of interest.  As was the nature of abusive relationships, she had assumed it was her fault that he didn’t want her physically.  She ignored the obvious signs of his sexual preferences, or lack thereof, instead attempting to gain his favor in ever more frantic ways.

Harley had always had a romantic streak, and the Joker took advantage of it.  She was enslaved to their relationship, or rather to the possibility of their relationship, which he kept alive with the occasional scrap of affection.

This had the side effect of curbing _all_ sexual activity for the better part of five years.  She wasn’t about to be unfaithful to the Joker, despite the fact that any outsider could have told her there _was_ no relationship.  Even if she had been inclined to infidelity (or fake infidelity, or whatever), she wasn’t surrounded by a lot of great options.  The vast majority of Joker’s crew would be happy to take her to bed, but she’d rather have both her legs cut off than sleep with any of those disgusting pigs.

Unfortunately, those same pigs tended to stay in the same safehouses as her and Joker.  She usually got her own room with some privacy, but knowing that a dozen or so unwashed, semi-psychotic men were just a thin wall away made it a little challenging to…“take care of herself,” so to speak.

She’d finally gotten some relief when she left Joker for Poison Ivy, who had no similar issues with sex.  Whatever else her problems, Ivy was a fantastic lay.  That year with Ivy had been extremely…relaxing.

However, her return to Arkham had also been a return to celibacy.  The cell doors at Arkham were made from a thick, bulletproof, transparent plastic to ensure that guards could always see what inmates were doing.  Unlike some of the less pleasant inmates, Harley wasn't interested in giving anyone a show, so she had once again been forced to ignore all sexual impulses.

She’d hoped that her release would put an end to her dry spell, but so far she’d been seriously disappointed.  Masturbation was hit or miss.  Half the time she closed her eyes, she was transported right back to Arkham, or those old, dirty warehouses, both of which tended to ruin the mood immediately.

Initially the prospect of dating had been too terrifying to contemplate.  But as her life evened out, especially once she started her new job, her frustration mounted.  She finally decided that it was time to get herself back out there.

She went to Veronica first.  Her friend was thrilled at the idea of playing matchmaker.  She spent hours grilling Harley about her taste in men.  It had been slightly challenging to explain to Veronica that her preferences ran a wider spectrum than just men.  Veronica, having been raised in a fairly conservative, sheltered household, had never heard the term “pansexual” before.  After a while Harley gave up trying and resigned herself to purely male prospects.

Harley didn’t mind men, certainly not the way that Ivy did.  In fact, she had a liking for more penetrative forms of sex.  Prior to her criminal career, she’d possessed a fairly extensive collection of toys, ones meant to be used with or without partners.  However, she worried about how men would react to being paired with Harley Quinn.

Her concerns were validated pretty much immediately.  The first guy Veronica set her up with turned pale the moment she introduced herself; evidently Veronica had not mentioned who he’d be meeting.  To his credit, he stammered his way through appetizers before inventing some excuse to get himself out of there.  After that, Harley made clear that Veronica needed to make the dates slightly less blind.  This had resulted in being stood up three times in a row.

When Veronica finally found a man willing to sit at a table with Harleen Quinzel for longer than two seconds, it hadn’t been much better.  Three minutes into the conversation, Harley realized that the guy was looking for a conquest.  He thought it’d be cool to “nail Harley Quinn” and he wasn’t shy about saying it.  In the end, _she’d_ been the one to fake an emergency.

Veronica’s social circles ran dry about that point.  Harley flat refused her offer to arrange a date with Bruce Wayne, for the simple reason that dating the boss would _not_ be a good idea.  That and Wayne had about as much personality as a walking golf-shirt.

At that point she resorted to online dating, a phenomenon whose presence had exploded since her last foray into the dating scene.  She’d heard more than a few things about a site called “Tinder” and figured she’d give that a shot.  It took an unreasonably long time to figure out how the damn app worked, by which point she’d read a number of articles about how unpleasant it was for women.  In for a penny, in for a pound though, and she decided to give it a shot.  She braced herself for a slew of people swiping right on her profile, as the articles online had warned her.  And she got it, just not from the folks she was expecting.

Apparently, Tinder was very popular with Gotham’s underworld, and she recognized nearly every person that displayed an interest in her.  They were, almost to a one, members of various gangs, or former crewmembers of one super villain or another.

In desperation, she’d swiped back on the first normal person she found, a graduate student at Gotham University.  He was a little young for her taste, but she wasn’t getting any better prospects.  At first it seemed to be going well; they made it through all of dinner with pleasant, if uninspired conversation.  Afterward, he invited her back to his apartment, and she accepted.

Which was when things started getting weird.

He had an odd look in his eye when they got to his apartment.  They sat on the couch to chat some more, and he began steering the conversation towards sex.  Initially she was relieved that he was willing to discuss preferences at the outset; a lot of people didn’t realize how necessary it was.  But his questions were strange.  He kept asking about punishment, and pain, and retribution.  The whole line was making her nervous, but, hoping to salvage something out of the night, she’d started making out with him.

In retrospect it was an obvious mistake.  Instead of calmly explaining that she was looking for something a bit more vanilla, she’d straddled him and latched onto his mouth.  Of course that would send a clear signal to him.

He’d gotten incredibly excited, and asked her to give him a few minutes in the bedroom to get ready before coming in.  She sat on the couch, feeling a mix of nervous awkwardness and hopeful anticipation.  After the designated time, she cautiously opened the door to the bedroom.

He had somehow strapped himself spread eagle to the bed, a remarkable accomplishment in her opinion, and was surrounded by a bewildering array of devices, most of which she didn’t recognize.  The few she did, like the whips and floggers, indicated that he was a fan of BDSM.  She couldn’t really ask him, though, because of the ball gag stuck in his mouth.

Although the sign taped to his chest saying “HARLEY’S LITTLE BITCH” seemed to give a sense of his intentions.  So did his excited, pleading expression.

She stuck around long enough to untie his hands so he could get free, before making a fast retreat.

On the way home, she deleted Tinder from her phone.

The whole situation peaked when, completely without meaning to, she asked out a cute girl from marketing that she’d had a couple passing conversations with.  The poor girl had been surprisingly gracious in turning her down, after which Harley had retreated to her office and hid under her desk the rest of the day.

Finally, she was forced to begin considering the one option she’d been managing not to consider for months.

She certainly hadn’t thought about Batman in that way before.  Definitely not since she’d kissed him at Arkham.  Certainly not many nights since she’d been released.  After he left her apartment.  In the dark.  With her hands under the sheets…No she definitely hadn’t imagined Batman as anything other than a friend for a number of months now…

On the face of it, they were a good match.  They were in a similar line of work, got along well, and enjoyed each others’ company.  Her criminal past didn’t seem to bother him.  He was certainly good looking.

There were just two small problems.

They weren’t the ones that an outsider might assume.  She was sure most women would be intimidated by the thought of sleeping with Batman, but she wasn’t one of them.  By this point, he was just another person for her, admittedly one who dressed a little strangely.  The outfit was an issue, but she had ways around that.

The more pressing difficulty was whether he even preferred women.  Her only piece of information was Catwoman’s claim, and that was dubious at best.  Having been there before, she knew that nothing was more embarrassing than propositioning someone whose interests ran in different directions.  She debated various ways to ascertain his sexual orientation before remembering that she had an ace up her sleeve.

She could just ask.

It would require delving back into her psychiatric work, but the way she saw it, it was an even trade.  A question for a question, then she’d know if she even had a shot.

That just left the problem of _how_ exactly to go about the proposition.  That was the one that caused her more anxiety.  She spent a fair bit of time trying to think of every angle before deciding that it was best to be up front.  Bats would respect the direct approach.  There were also various contingencies to cover; concerns he might have.  She got tested again, even though she’d been cleared before leaving Arkham.  She was on the pill, but she got condoms in case he didn’t believe her.  To be safe, she picked up a variety of sizes and materials, in case he was allergic to latex or needed something larger or smaller than the norm.

She thought about what she would wear.  The dress was a forgone conclusion, it would give her the confidence she needed, but what should she have on underneath?  As much as she loved it, the dress didn’t scream sexy, and she definitely wanted to look sexy when she asked him.  She could go commando, she knew guys liked that.  But if he turned her down, she’d be left standing around naked, and that sounded a bit too humiliating.

Lingerie then?  In addition to her toy collection, she’d once been the proud owner of a number of very attractive outfits.  Times had changed though, and so had she.  While browsing a store at the mall, she’d found herself blushing at the more risqué pieces.  The confidence she’d once possessed was in shorter supply these days.  In the end she’d settled on a bra and panty set that was revealing, but not enough to show off all the goods.  In black of course, because it was Batman she was seducing.

She got a wax, just in case he was one of those guys who preferred his women hairless.  It really didn’t make much difference to her, but best to cover all her bases.

She rehearsed what she would say over and over in her head, knowing she’d probably mess it up once she opened her mouth, but wanting to have something to structure her thoughts.  She had to explain her motivation to him, to make him understand what she was proposing, and to reassure him that it would be okay if he wasn’t interested.

All that was left, was to put her plan into motion.

For a week she tried to work up the nerve to say something when he visited, always chickening out at the last second.  Then, finally, she gritted her teeth and got the conversation started.  She asked him who he’d like her help understanding.

And they’d ended up on the Joker.

If there was a better metaphor for her sex life, she couldn’t think of it.  A big old Joker-shaped bucket of water thrown right over her lady boner.

What’s worse was that her plan worked.  It turned out he _was_ into women.  Not only that, but he’d only screwed Catwoman once, and for a completely sympathetic reason.  One she could understand, one she could share.  It was perfect.  He wasn't out there pining over that cat-obsessed bimbo every night.

Except for the goddam Joker.

It always came back to the Joker with them, and in a moment of despair, she convinced herself that it always would.  There was no point hoping for something more.  So, when he gave her the perfect opening to start her speech, she stayed silent.

Then he went and upped the ante.  Like the Knight he was, he swooped down, snatched the words she most needed to hear right out of her head, and gave them to her on a gilded, silver platter.

“You should know, you’re not defined by him.  You _are_ free to be your own person.”

She looked at him as if he’d spoken the words in another language.  They reverberated around her head. “You’re not defined by him.  You _are_ free to be your own person.” Each time she thought them, they took on new meaning, until they shook her down to the very core of her being.

And she decided, once again, that Joker did not get to run her fucking life.  Not anymore.

She stopped Batman from leaving.  She dropped the dress.  She said everything she wanted to say, not as eloquently as she would have liked, but better than she’d feared.  She bared herself, literally and metaphorically to him.

And now she stood in front of him, more vulnerable than she’d ever felt in her life, waiting for his response…

“I’d like that.”

She thought she’d misheard him at first.  Surely, he didn’t _really_ want her?

“Are you sure?” she asked anxiously. “I don’t wanna pressure you or nothin.’”

He gave her a small, reassuring smile. “Yes, I’m sure.”

Harley almost fainted with relief.  All this buildup, all this stress and worry, and he’d said yes!  She wanted to dance for joy.  But she had better things to do.

As he turned to close the blinds, she rushed him impatiently.  He looked back in time for her to fling herself at him.  He caught her around the waist instinctively as her arms wrapped around his neck and their lips met.

It was different than the first two times she’d kissed him, because this time he kissed her back.  He didn’t hesitate, he wasn’t shy, he matched her passion and enthusiasm with his own.  It had been so long since anyone had really kissed her that she whimpered a little as he took her bottom lip between his teeth and tugged lightly.  Of course he had to be a great kisser.  That boded well for the rest of the evening.

When they pulled apart to catch their breath, she was happy that the part of his face she could see was as flushed as she felt.  The look he gave her went straight through her like a jolt of electricity.  He stared at her like she was something delicious he just wanted to eat up.

Of course, being Bats, he still had to be all responsible and stuff. “Should we talk first?  Set boundaries?”

The fact that he was considerate enough to ask almost made her melt. “Ordinarily, yeah, we should.  I’m a bit impatient right now though.  Can we just keep it basic tonight, nothin’ too weird?  Like it you get off on hangin’ people upside down and stickin’ Batarangs in their butts, maybe we can hold off on that for now?”

He grinned more broadly than she’d ever seen. “I’m fine with that.”

“Good.  Now get back here!”

They kissed again, even more fiercely than before.  He took the initiative in slipping his tongue past her lips, and she responded enthusiastically.  She struggled to breathe, to control herself.  All she could think about was the two of them, the way their bodies pressed against each other, and how she wanted even more of him.

He’d evidently been thinking along the same lines, because his hands went to the back of her bra and made to unclasp it.

“Not yet, Mister.” She disentangled herself from, feeling suddenly playful. “I spent a lotta time pickin’ these out.  I want you to appreciate how ‘em before you get to see the goods.”

She stepped back and struck a pose, one hand on her waist, her hip cocked.  His eyes wandered freely, paying particular attention to her legs and breasts.

“Whaddya think?” she asked once he’d had time to examine her to his heart’s content. “How do I look?”

His gaze snapped back up to her face for the first time in a while. “You look incredibly beautiful.”

She blushed. “You know how to flatter a girl, Bats.  Since you’re bein’ so nice, I suppose you deserve to see the rest of it.”

Reaching back slowly, she unclasped the bra.  She took her time, letting the straps fall off her shoulders, but holding the cups over her breasts, enjoying the way he seemed to be breathing harder.  Finally, when it looked like he might reach over and rip the garment out of her hands, she let it drop away.

She was a little nervous for this reveal.  Harley had always been fairly happy with her breasts.  They weren’t as big as Ivy’s by any stretch, but she’d always thought they were a decent size.  They weren’t quite as perky as they used to be though, and this was the first time a guy had seen them in almost ten years.

The way Bats stared at them however, there didn’t seem to be any issue.  Encouraged, she turned and made a show of pushing her panties down her legs.  She was far more confident in how her ass looked; Ivy used to tell her she had an ass to kill for.

From the expression on Batman’s face when she spun back around, it looked like he agreed.  After a good once over of her naked body, he pulled her back into an embrace.

She gasped as her nipples came into contact with the rough material of his suit.  It was a surprising, although not unpleasant sensation. “Kinda…want…you…naked…too,” she said between sloppy kisses.

He paused, and she sensed his sudden hesitation.

“It’s okay,” she said, pulling back to look him seriously in the eye. “You don’t gotta tell me your name, and I won’t take pictures or nothin.’  I won’t have a clue who you are.”

He appeared to be wrestling with something before finally saying, “We’ve met before.  Out there.”

“Really?!” She was more than a little surprised.  In a city of six million people, what were the odds that they’d have run into each other.  What’s more, the way he said it made it seem like she would definitely recognize him.  She did her best not to start speculating, knowing that he’d displayed a lot of trust by even telling her.

Luckily she’d anticipated his reticence.  Pulling away once again, she went to her dresser a pulled out a length of fabric. “Blindfold,” she said, displaying it to him. “No offense, but I’d rather you weren’t wearing the suit.  This way, you can get naked, and I won’t see a thing.  That okay?”

She waited patiently while he considered.  He knew she could easily tear off the blindfold midway through and get a good look at him.  It was all about whether he trusted her to respect his wishes.  Luckily, he did.

“Alright,” he nodded.

“Great!” She skipped happily back over to him and held out the blindfold. “You wanna do the honors?”

He smiled slightly and took it from her.  She took one last look at him before he placed the strip of silky fabric over her eyes, obscuring her vision completely.  He gently stretched it over the back of her head. “Is that comfortable?”

“Perfect!  Now get naked already!”

She heard him chuckle, then the sound of rustling fabric.  She’d have loved to help him, but trying to take off a complicated suit while blindfolded didn’t seem like the smartest idea.  Instead she waited impatiently for him to finish.  To her surprise, it didn’t take very long, and his hands reached out to pull her back to him.

She immediately pressed herself against him, longing to feel his skin against hers for the first time.  He drew her against him, and his lips found hers, the light dusting of chest hair tickling her breasts.  She attacked him hungrily while her hands caressed his back and arms, enjoying the way his muscles rippled under her fingers.  Harley had never been with anyone in as good a shape as him, and while the whole beefcake thing had never been a big deal to her, she couldn’t deny enjoying it with him.

The way their bodies mashed against one another pushed his erection up against her belly.  She was excited that just kissing and seeing her naked had already gotten him so hard.  She’d half expected him to be on the small side, just to compensate for how huge the rest of him was, but naturally he was totally hung.  Reaching down, she wrapped her hand around him and gave a few tentative strokes.

When he moaned into her mouth, she felt like she’d burst into flames.

“Need you right fucking now!” she hissed, pulling back from his mouth and gripping his length.

“The bed?” he asked.

“Yeah.  No way that table’s sturdy enough.”

He promptly picked her up, causing her to squeal.  He carried her like she weighed nothing, because he knew how to make a girl feel special like that, and laid her down gently on the bed.

She’d fully expected him to shove himself right inside her and go to town, which wouldn’t have been a problem with her.  But he surprised her by taking it slow and kissing neck gently.  She shivered at the feathery touch of his lips, especially when he reached that special spot along her shoulder.  He kept going, further down, laying kisses all along her chest until he reached her breasts.  His tongue lavished her breasts with attention.  She especially enjoyed it when he circled her nipples, it sent sparks down her spine right to her pussy.

It eventually became clear to her that he was headed all the way south.  He replaced his mouth with his hands and continued playing with her breasts and he lightly kissed her stomach.

“You don’t gotta,” she mumbled softly, but he didn’t pay her any attention.  Apparently, he _had_ wanted to eat her up.

When he reached the juncture of her thighs, he nibbled gently on the inside of her leg, making her whimper.  She thought she might faint from nervous anticipation when, finally, his tongue made contact with her lips.

She bucked involuntarily and seized a handful of his tousled hair.  She had no idea if it was his technique, or just how long it had been since someone had done this to her, but it felt absolutely fucking incredible.  Time became a blur as he pleasured her; she was unable to think of anything but his tongue on her pussy, his hands on her breasts, and his hair under her fingers.  He was so enthusiastic, he made it seem like she was the most delicious thing he’d ever tasted.

“Um, B?” she said tentatively. “I think I’m gonna-”

He didn’t stop, and unlike most men, he didn’t speed up or slow down.  He just kept up that same, perfect rhythm that had gotten her so close so fast.  Barely a minute later, her body was seized by waves of pleasure emanating out from her core and she cried out her release to the whole room.  She gripped the top of his head even harder and did her best not to crush him with her thighs.

He stopped once she started twitching from overstimulation.  She lay back on the bed, breathing heavily and reeling from her orgasm.  She could feel him prop himself up above her, waiting for her to recover.

That was just way too good, she thought.  She had to get him back for that.

“Stand up,” she told him.  If he was skeptical, he didn’t say anything, and the bed squeaked as he got up.  Grabbing his hips so she knew where he was, she swung her legs off the bed and knelt in front of him.

Now it was his turn to say, “You don’t have to.” She ignored his feeble objection just as he had with her.

Her hands found his still rigid cock.  She stroked it again with both hands, feeling a bit intimidated by his size.  She couldn’t remember the last time she’d given a blowjob, but she was sure it wasn’t with someone so well endowed.

Lucky she had a big mouth, she thought to herself with a little chuckle.

She started with a little lick, just to get him going a bit.  From the intake of breath above her, it seemed to work perfectly.  Feeling bolder, she wrapped her lips around the tip and sucked lightly.  She kept stroking the rest of his length while keeping the head of his cock in her mouth, getting acclimated to his size and taste.

Once she felt brave enough, she opened her jaw wide and tried taking more of him into her mouth.  The sharp hiss she got in reply was encouraging, and she started sucking him off in earnest.  She found that she could comfortably fit about a third of him in her mouth, which wasn’t as much as she’d have liked, but he didn’t appear to be objecting.

Pretty soon her jaw got tired and she had to take a break.  Pulling back with a gasp, she stroked him feverishly before tilting him up to lick him from base to tip.  To her surprise, he was completely shaved, making her even more thankful that she’d chosen to get a wax.

Once she’d had a rest, she went back to pleasuring him with her mouth.  He groaned loudly above her, making her smile around his cock.  She picked up the pace, feeling powerful and sexy, focused with all her might on showing him she could give as good as she got.  His hands stroked her hair lightly in appreciation, which just made her try to go faster.  He was so hard in her mouth, she could feel him twitching occasionally.

“Harley,” he gasped. “I’m getting close.”

Yes, that was it.  She wanted him to lose control.  To feel even an ounce of the pleasure he’d given her.  She wanted him to come undone, and she wanted to be the one who made it happen.

“Wait, Harley!  I want to be inside you.”

Oh yeah.  She’d forgotten all about her original purpose in seducing her friend.  To get fucked.  She was torn for a moment.  On the one hand she wanted to prove she was good enough to make him come like this.  On the other, she _really_ wanted his dick inside her.

Somewhat reluctantly, she let him pull her to her feet and kiss her again.  She could still taste herself on his lips and it drove her wild.  She kissed him frantically, her hands running all over his body, trying to touch every bit of him she could.  He did the same, cupping her ass and making her moan.

Leaning back, she lay back down on the bed and pulled him on top of her.  He nestled between her legs and she felt him pressing against her opening.

She paused, feeling suddenly nervous. “Just, go slow, alright?  It’s been a while.”

“Of course,” he reassured her. “Stop me if it hurts.”

She nodded, and he began to push insider her.  He went very slow, easing his length into her little by little, and she was incredibly wet, but the sensation of being stretched out still caused her to gasp.  He paused frequently to let her adjust, and she let him know when to continue.

After an indeterminable length of time, his entire length was buried insider her pussy.  She couldn’t remember ever feeling so full, even including that time she’d tried an extra thick dildo out of curiosity.

“You can go ahead and move a bit,” she told him, knowing he was probably going crazy. “I’ll tell ya if you need to stop.”

By this point she knew he wouldn’t just start hammering away at her, and he didn’t disappoint.  His movements were slow and gentle, but also surprisingly graceful and rhythmic.  He rolled his hips every time he pushed back inside her, hitting every delicious spot she had, and a couple she didn’t even know about. 

“More!” she moaned, clutching his shoulders.

He obliged, picking up the pace while somehow managing to maintain that delicious rolling movement at the same time.  It was so goddam _good_ Harley thought she might pass out at any moment.  She cried out every time he thrust back into her, drowning out his own, somewhat more restrained moans.

“Don’t fuckin’ stop!  Don’t care if you come, just keep going!”

She wrapped her legs around his waist and pressed her heels into his ass to make sure he obeyed her.  His movements were getting more frantic, and she knew he wasn’t going to last much longer, but she didn’t care.  She want, no _needed_ him to come inside her.  It didn’t matter to her if she didn’t have a second orgasm.

But apparently it mattered to Bats.

Somehow, he managed to reestablish a semblance of his rhythm, and she moaned freely as he hit her G-spot over and over.

She came with an aborted scream, digging her fingers into his shoulders as she clenched and writhed around him.  That was apparently enough for him, and he buried his face in her neck as she felt his cock twitch, emptying himself inside her.

It was the best orgasm she’d had since well before becoming Harley Quinn.  Her only regret was that she couldn’t see his face as he came and watch the pleasure he felt being inside her.

Eventually he stilled on top of her, and they both panted, trying to catch their breath.  She made an unhappy noise when he pulled out of her, figuring it meant he was done and would be one his way.  However, he shifted her around on the bed so he could lie next to her.  She smiled happily and settled her head in the crook of his shoulder, draping and arm and a leg over him.  He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close.

He kissed the top of her head. “Feeling better?”

“Loads!” She sighed contentedly. “God, I needed that.”

“I could tell,” he remarked wryly.

She slapped his arm playfully. “Hey, I didn’t hear you objecting!”

“No, I needed it too,” he admitted.

She got suddenly nervous. “Was I alright?  I know I’m a little outta practice, so I won’t be offended if it wasn’t that good.”

He gave her a squeeze. “It was amazing.  _You_ were amazing.”

“So were you.  How’d you learn to screw that good?”

He chuckled. “My misspent youth.”

“It don’t feel misspent to me if _that’s_ the result.” She rubbed his chest lightly, for the first time noticing the telltale signs of old scars.  Quite of few of them, if she wasn’t mistaken.  She traced a particularly jagged one up the side of his ribs.

“That was Croc,” he said in response to her unspoken question. “Got his teeth around me for half a second.”

Harley shuddered. “What about this one?” A long line across his stomach.

“A ninja assassin with a sword.”

She shook her head ruefully. “You got a weird life, Bats.” She hesitated before asking, “Any of ‘em from me?”

“No, hammers don’t tend to leave scars.” His tone was playful but she winced.

“Sorry,” she mumbled.

“It’s fine,” he said, reassuringly, “you never did any permanent damage.”

“I’m glad.  Otherwise I might be lyin’ here with some crazy person.”

He laughed again. “Most people would probably say I’m crazy enough.”

“I got way higher standards for crazy,” she pointed out. “Luckily for you.”

Harley lay on him long enough to start getting drowsy.  Far too soon for her liking, however, he stirred and began to get off the bed.

She groaned. “Don’t suppose you feel like stayin’?”

“I can’t,” he replied regretfully. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, I figured you wouldn’t be able to.” She waved vaguely. “Bathroom’s over there if you need it.”

She stayed on the bed while he bustled around, getting redressed. “You can take the blindfold off now,” he said once he was done.

She did, blinking the light as her eyes adjusted.  Bats was crouched next to her bed, back in his suit.  He leaned over and kissed her gently.

“Thank you,” he told her. “It was a wonderful night.”

She smiled happily. “You think you might wanna do it again sometime.”

He returned her smile. “Yes, I would.”

“Good!” she sat up and stretched, pushing out her chest slightly more than usual, just for fun. “Now go on and save some people!”

He glided out the window and Harley stood in her living room, literally bouncing around in joy.


	13. The Talk

Bruce made it about five minutes before the reality of what had just happened began to sink in.

He’d had sex. With Harleen Quinzel.

He’d had _sex_.  With _Harleen_.  _Quinzel_.

And not terrible, or awkward, or even just average sex either.  They’d had the most incredible, mind blowing sex of his life.  He nearly crashed the Batpod into a building twice as images of Harley’s naked body writhing under him flashed across his vision.  The sounds she’d made kept echoed through his ears.

He’d had sex with Harley.

Bruce was not an unintelligent person.  His ability to process information was virtually unparalleled, but not even he could wrap his head around this fact. 

He wasn’t even sure how it had happened.  One moment he was about to leave, the next she was standing there, practically naked, asking him to sleep with her.  He hadn’t even hesitated, not even for a second.  That was what kept bothering him.  It never even occurred to him to say no.  Sure, it had been nearly seven years since he’d been with a woman, but if he was really that focused on getting laid, there were less complicated ways to do, and less complicated people to do it with.

Harley was his friend, why would he risk ruining their relationship by bringing sex into it?  Of course, he reminded himself it had been her idea.  She had made the first move.  But he’d still said yes.  He had to admit that, as well as she was doing, Harley still had many issues to deal with.  Why hadn’t he considered that before fucking her brains out?  And agreeing to do it again.  Which he very much wanted to, but was that fair to her?

Bruce arrived back at the Batcave before he was able to sort out his confusion.  He’d hoped that Alfred would have already turned in for the night, so Bruce wouldn’t have to make small talk, but no such luck.  His graying butler was bent over a workbench nearby, tinkering with one of Fox’s latest gadgets.  He gave a brief glance at Bruce as he swung off the Batpod.

“Oh good, you’re not dead,” he said, before turning back to his work.

“Why would I be?” Bruce asked absently as he removed his cowl.

“The biomonitor in your suit went blank for a short period.  I was about to contact you when it came back online.”

Bruce froze.  Surely he hadn’t forgotten to switch off the suit’s biomonitor before taking it off, had he?  Otherwise, Alfred definitely would have known he’d not been wearing it.  Frantically, he tried to think of a plausible sounding explanation.

“I had a malfunction with detective vision,” he invented wildly. “I had to take the suit off to get at the circuitry.”

“You could have notified me.” Alfred’s tone was reproachful.

“I thought you’d already be asleep.  Sorry to worry you.”

He held his breath, but Alfred accepted this easily. “Well, no harm done.  Would you like to test the new disruptor before you turn in?”

Relief coursed through him.  He wasn’t up to a lecture from Alfred just now. “It can wait.  I’ll see you in the morning, Alfred.”

“Good night, Master Bruce.”

Bruce beat a hasty retreat to his room, where he sat on the bed with his head in his hands.  The longer he thought about what had happened with Harley, the more confused he became.  Eventually, he decided to sleep on it and see if it made any more sense in the morning.  Luckily it was Friday night (or Saturday morning depending on how one liked to measure these things), meaning he could actually get a good night’s sleep.

It didn’t help.

His dreams were filled with a Harley who was by turns madly smitten and deeply unhappy with him.  He woke the next morning just as bewildered as before.  It had been an amazing night, there was no denying it, but he still didn’t have a good handle on why he’d been so eager.  He consoled himself that he at least had a couple more days to figure it out; Harley was busy enough most Saturdays that she typically preferred some alone time in the evenings.

He tried to put her out of his mind as he went about his daily routine.  He had a quick meeting with Fox about some potential upgrades to the Batmobile, followed by a charity luncheon to benefit the Gotham Children’s Hospital.  Afterwards, he and Tim trained in the Batcave.  Tim’s skills as both a fighter and detective were growing in leaps and bounds, and Bruce knew it was just a matter of time before he surpassed Bruce completely.

Tim left early for patrol while Bruce stayed behind in the Batcave to experiment with the new disruptor.  It was effective, but clunky, and he spent a little time working on an updated schematic before getting ready for his own patrol.

Alfred had already laid out the Batsuit and his equipment on a nearby table, but Bruce hadn’t noticed a conspicuous new addition to his gear until he got closer.  Along with his utility belt, grapnel hook, Batarangs, and other assorted gadgets, Alfred had included a box of condoms.

“Alfred!” he called.

Alfred poked his head up from the Batmobile’s engine. “Yes sir?”

“What’s this?” Bruce held up the box of condoms with a frown.

“I’m fairly certain I was not so lax in your education that you can’t recognize a condom, Master Bruce,” Alfred said, his expression unchanged, but Bruce knew when he was joking.

“Very funny, Alfred.  And why exactly do you think I need to take condoms with me on patrol?”

“Why, because I wasn’t sure if Ms. Quinzel already provided some, and I thought it would be wise to be prepared.” Now Alfred’s mouth was definitely twitching.

Bruce’s stomach dropped down around his ankles. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh, come now, Master Bruce, are we really going to continue this charade?” Alfred walked around the Batmobile, wiping his hands on a rag. “We both know there was no malfunction last night.  You were at Ms. Quinzel’s.  I can connect the dots, so to speak.”

Bruce thought about trying to deny it further, but there was no use. “Why didn’t you say anything then?”

Alfred’s eyes sparkled with mirth. “Because you take yourself far too seriously, and someone needs to remind you to relax occasionally.”

“Alright, fine, you’ve had your little joke.” Bruce tossed down the box and started gathering his equipment. “Now if there’s nothing else…?”

“As a matter of fact, there is.” Alfred strode over to the small, four-person table next to the Batcomputer where they took meals.  It was set with a teapot and two cups. “Come sit down, I’d like to talk with you.”

“I don’t really have time, Alfred,” Bruce said impatiently. “I’m supposed to be on patrol.”

“If there is enough time for you to dally with Ms. Quinzel, then there is certainly time for you to have a brief chat with me,” Alfred replied, pouring tea into the cups.

There really was no good response to that, and Bruce reluctantly sat down across from Alfred.  He took a sip of scalding tea, hoping to hasten his departure.

Alfred settled himself comfortable in his chair and gazed steadily at Bruce over the top of his teacup. “I was hoping we might discuss your involvement with Ms. Quinzel.”

Bruce scowled. “I’m not really in the mood, Alfred.”

“Well I am, Bruce, so humor me.” Alfred was unusually authoritative. “It’s obvious you have feelings for her.”

“It’s obvious is it?” Bruce said sarcastically.

Alfred remained perfectly calm. “Indeed it is.  You have spent as much time with her in the past month as you have training Master Drake.”

“If you’re implying I’m neglecting my responsibilities-” Bruce began heatedly, but Alfred cut him off.

“Not in the slightest.  I’m merely stating that your time with Ms. Quinzel now approaches that of your closest friends and allies.  That appears to indicate her importance to you.”

“We’re friends,” Bruce stated.

Alfred raised an eyebrow. “Now with benefits, I believe is how the young folk describe it.”

“Leave the jokes to comedians, Alfred.  Can we just skip to the point?”

“Very well.” Alfred set down his cup and looked at Bruce seriously. “Tell me honestly.  How do you feel about Ms. Quinzel?"

"I told you," Bruce replied stubbornly. "We're friends.  I check up on her and she helps me with cases sometimes.  I want to make sure she adjusts to regular life."

"Ah, so that's your only reason for visiting her so frequently?" Alfred inquired. "Simple concern for a former convict?  Those are the extent of your feelings?"

Bruce gritted his teeth. "No," he admitted reluctantly.

"Do you love her?” Alfred asked bluntly.

“This is ridiculous, Alfred!” Bruce started to stand up to leave.

“Sit down, young man!” Alfred barked.  Bruce was so surprised that he dropped back into his chair before he’d realized it.  He couldn’t remember the last time Alfred had been so forceful with him, but it had almost certainly been when he was still a child.  Alfred looked at him sternly. “Answer the question.  Are you in love with Ms. Quinzel?”

Bruce snarled, but he’d never been able to lie to Alfred. “Fine!  Yes, I’m in love with her.  For a while now.” Admitting it allowed him to realize it.  _That’s_ why he’d been so quick to agree to her proposition last night.  The realization broke over him like a wave, knocking everything askew.  His head felt jumbled and uncertain.

Alfred leaned back in satisfaction. “There, was that really so difficult?”

“You of all people should know exactly how difficult it is,” Bruce said, looking away into the depths of the Batcave.  Yes, he was in love with Harleen Quinzel.  It was ridiculous, it was absurd.  But it was true.

“Have you thought about exactly what you hope to gain from your relationship with Ms. Quinzel?”

He deep breath. “Yes.  I have.”

“And?” Alfred prompted.

“And I have no idea,” Bruce confessed. “I wasn’t expecting things to go this far.”

Alfred nodded sympathetically. “None of us were.  But the fact remains they have.  So, what are you planning to do?  Do you intend to tell her who you are?”

“No,” he said reflexively, before considering the question. “Maybe?  I don’t know.  What do you think?”

“You’ve told precious few souls who you really are, and for very good reason,” Alfred observed. “The work you’ve done has only been effective because Batman is less a person than a symbol.  Every individual who knows the identity of the Batman is one more opportunity for your work to come undone.  Do you think she can be trusted with such a secret?”

“Yes,” he said without hesitation, realizing with some surprise that he believed it. “She’s had plenty of opportunities to ask who I am, and she never does.  Hell, she’s smart enough she could probably guess it if she wanted.”

“What makes you think she hasn’t already?” Alfred asked.

“Not a chance.”

Alfred looked mildly surprised. “What makes you so sure?”

It took Bruce a moment to put his finger on the source of his certainty. “Because she wouldn’t be interested in me if she knew who I was.” That was the core of it, the source of the uneasy he’d been feeling since leaving her apartment. “She thinks Bruce Wayne is an idiot.”

“That’s because you _want_ people who meet you to think you’re an idiot, sir,” Alfred pointed out. “What makes you think Ms. Quinzel wouldn’t appreciate getting to know the _real_ Bruce Wayne?”

Bruce snorted. “Who _is_ the real Bruce Wayne?  I spend so much time as Batman or a shallow socialite I don’t even remember who I am some days.”

“Do you feel yourself around Ms. Quinzel?”

He nodded, not even surprised to find it was true. “More than anyone besides you.”

“That seems to be an answer in and of itself, Master Bruce.”

“Maybe.” Bruce sighed heavily. “You know, I’m surprised Alfred.  I thought you’d disapprove of Harley.”

Alfred frowned. “I must admit she wouldn’t be my first choice for you.  However, you’ve rarely gotten what I had hoped you would in life.  And Mr. Fox has come to think quite highly of Ms. Quinzel.”

Bruce laughed shortly. “You two gossip like old women.”

“Old _men_ , Master Bruce,” Alfred corrected him gently. “And we are not getting any younger.  Have you given thought to what you will do when I’m no longer here?”

“I try not to.” It was an extremely unpleasant thought.

“I understand, but it will happen someday.” Alfred’s tone was gentle but unyielding. “I don’t like the idea of you haunting this mansion alone.  I know you gave up on finding a partner in the ordinary fashion.  Perhaps something more unusual is a blessing in disguise?”

Bruce shrugged. “Maybe.  I suppose I owe it to her to figure it out.”

“You do,” Alfred agreed. “That poor woman has been through enough already.  If this isn’t going to work, she deserves to know sooner rather than later.”

“You’re right.  I’ll try to figure everything out before I see her again.” Bruce stood and started to resume his preparations.  He paused briefly as an unpleasant thought occurred to him. “I’m guessing the others know about us as well.”

“I’m afraid so,” Alfred said apologetically. “Ms. Gordon monitors your movements almost as closely as I do.”

“Great.  What do they think about the whole thing?” He dreaded the answer.

“I believe Ms. Gordon is rather concerned about the time you spend with Ms. Quinzel,” Alfred answered honestly. “As is Master Drake, although he is somewhat less vocal.  Master Grayson has not said anything to me on the subject so far.” He looked at Bruce seriously. “You know that you will have to inform them, if you decide to tell Ms. Quinzel who you are.”

“I know,” Bruce muttered.  The prospect was not a pleasant one.  He knew Barbara in particular would be difficult to convince, with good reason. “Thanks, Alfred”

“Of course, Master Bruce.”

Bruce nodded and turned to the Batpod.

“Oh and Master Bruce.  Are you sure you don’t want to take these with you?”

Bruce looked back.  Alfred was holding up a string of condoms.  Bruce shook his head. “Get some rest, Alfred.  You’re starting to crack.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm fairly confident that no matter how much you hate any particular version of Batman, be it one of the comics or a movie you didn't like, Alfred is always amazing. I had an enormous amount of fun writing him in this chapter; I liked to think of him as a combination of the one from the Animated Series and Jeremy Iron's portrayal. I hope you enjoyed him, and if you did, rest assured this won't be his last appearance in this story.


	14. Ups and Downs

Harley was still flying high when she woke up on Saturday.  She was a little sore; despite how gentle he’d been, it was still the first time she’d had sex in a _long_ time, and with a pretty big cock too.  That couldn’t put a damper on her spirits; if anything it just added to her happiness.  The slight discomfort was a physical reminder that it had really happened and wasn’t just some vivid fantasy her sex starved mind had conjured up.

Veronica had pushed their usual lunch back to dinner, so she spent most of the day at the zoo with her babies.  The attendants knew her by now, and while they’d been initially nervous that she might try to steal Bud and Lou back, they’d relaxed a bit after months without incident.  Several even greeted her in an almost friendly way when they saw her.

She told them all about the new man in her life, the details of her job, and the plot of the latest novel she’d read.  Of course they were very excited for her, especially when they heard about Bats.  Normal passerby wouldn’t be able to tell, but they didn’t know hyenas like she did.

After the zoo she went home briefly to change into a nice outfit, because she and Veronica were going to an upscale Italian place tonight.  It was one of two such places not owned by the remnants of the Maroni or Falcone families.  Her friend had finally agreed to let Harley pick up the tab for once, and she was looking forward to spending way too much money on fancy appetizers, drinks, and desserts.

Veronica had arrived before her and leapt up from the table when she saw Harley approaching.

“Hi sweetie!” she said, giving Harley an enthusiastic hug. “Love that dress!”

“Isn’t it great?” Harley did a little twirl, showing off the black cocktail dress she’d chosen for the occasion. “I just got it last week!”

“Well it’s fabulous!” Veronica gushed as they sat down.

They ordered drinks and chatted for a bit about work.  Veronica told her about the luncheon for the Children’s Hospital she’d attended earlier that day with Bruce Wayne.

Harley was surprised. “What, like as a date?”

“Oh no,” Veronica said with a laugh. “Bruce is just a friend.  I tried to catch his eye back when we first met, but he’s hopeless.  I’ve only ever seen him date ballerinas or singers or actors.  It’s like he _wants_ people who are too busy for him.”

“So, why’d you try to set _me_ up with him?” Harley asked in confusion.

“It was worth a shot,” Veronica replied a little defensively. “And he’s really nice.”

Harley gave an unladylike snort. “Yeah, but I’m pretty sure his head’s full of air.”

Veronica giggled reluctantly. “He can be a bit dense sometimes.  Today at the lunch, he won an auction item, and when he went up to accept it, he walked right off the edge of the stage!  I felt so bad, but the look on his face was priceless!”

They shared a somewhat guilty laugh at the idea of Bruce Wayne tumbling off the ballroom platform.

“What about you?” Veronica asked once they’d stopped laughing. “Any luck finding a man?”

Harley hesitated, not sure if she should say anything, but the uncontrollable grin that spread across her face gave her away instantly. “Actually, yeah.”

“What?!” Veronica’s face lit up. “Who is he, tell me everything!”

Harley debated how much to share with her friend before deciding that a few vague details couldn’t hurt. “Well, we knew each other a bit before I got outta Arkham.  We got back in touch after I got out, and we’ve been hangin’ out ever since.  It wasn’t romantic or nothin’ at first.”

“Why not?  It wasn’t a desperation thing was it?” Veronica’s expression turned concerned. “Because there’s lots of nice guys out there, you don’t have to settle for just anyone who’ll have you.”

“No it wasn’t like that, he’s a really great guy.” Harley hastened to explain. “He’s just a bit shy.  I wasn’t sure he was interested.”

“And what changed?”

“I asked,” Harley said simply. “He said he was, and it kinda took off from there.”

Veronica leaned forward eagerly. “How far has it gone?”

Harley’s grin widened, and Veronica reached across the table to give her a playful push. “You terrible girl!  How was it?!”

“Incredible!” Harley admitted. “Maybe the best of my life.  I’m still reelin’ to be honest.”

“See I told you you’d find someone,” Veronica crowed triumphantly. “What’s the lucky guy’s name?”

Harley’s smile abruptly vanished.  She hadn’t thought far enough ahead to expect this question and it took her completely by surprise.  Her uncertainty lasted only a moment, and she managed to get the grin back on her face. “Ben,” she invented. “His name’s Ben.”

“Well here’s to Ben.” Veronica raised her glass. “He better treat you well!”

Harley managed to keep up a cheerful façade through the rest of dinner, but she directed conversation towards safer subjects.  The Uber ride home was much more challenging.  She kept turning her phone over and over in her hands, longing to make the call, but knowing she should wait until she was back in the privacy of her own apartment. 

The moment she got through the door, she was pressing the call button.  After what felt like five thousand rings, someone finally picked up.

“Hello?” The person on the other end sounded groggy, as if they’d been asleep.  Harley winced, realizing she hadn’t been paying attention to the time.

“Hey, Dr. Leland, it’s Harley,” she said. “Listen, I’m really sorry to bother you, but is there any chance you got time to see me tomorrow.  I could really use your help.”

 ***

Dr. Joan Leland spent most of her days as the Head Psychiatrist at Arkham Asylum.  She was known to her coworkers and patients as a fair, but no-nonsense woman whose psychological expertise and administrative acumen were the only reasons that Arkham had survived as long as it had.  Anytime the city or state got fussy about Akrham’s admittedly dismal rehabilitation rate, Dr. Leland put them in their place by demonstrating beyond a shadow of a doubt that they were performing far better than they had any right to, especially given the types of inmates they treated.

She’d been Harley’s mentor when she first began at Arkham, showing her the ropes, and supervising her first cases.  She’d seen the naïve enthusiasm with which Harley had approached her work and cautioned her against getting too close to the inmates.

Harley wished she’d listened.

After Harley had turned herself in, Leland had become her therapist, in charge of her rehabilitation.  In the course of three years, she’d never once shown any irritation or disappointment with Harley for ignoring her warnings.  In every session, she expressed her confidence that, with some work, Harley would be able to lead a perfectly normal life one day.  It was mostly because of her word that the parole board had decided to release Harley.  Both times.

Unknown to many of her colleagues, she maintained a miniscule private practice whose sole purpose was to continue working with rehabilitated Arkham patients.  She did this completely free of charge, since most former inmates could not afford insurance that covered the normal costs of therapy.  Even Harley, who was lucky enough to have decent coverage, had never been charged for one of their sessions.  She felt frequently guilty about this, because she saw Dr. Leland nearly every week.

Dr. Leland pretended that her motivations were selfish.  She said it was in her interest that Harley Quinn continue to be a model citizen, as an example of Arkham’s efficacy.  Harley knew this was bullshit.  She knew Dr. Leland did it because she cared.

Dr. Leland’s private office was surprisingly homely, in contrast to the generic blankness of her Arkham office.  Photos of family and friends, artwork, knick-knacks, and books covered all available surfaces except the two chairs.  Harley knew this was because Arkham discouraged its staff from displaying personal effects, out of concern for the inmates taking advantage of some apparently small detail.

“Thanks for seein’ me, Doc,” Harley said as she sat down. “I’m real sorry about wakin’ you up last night.”

Dr. Leland waved away her apology with a professional little smile. “It’s fine, Harley.  I’d rather you reach out than try to deal with a crisis by yourself.  So, tell me what’s going on?”

Harley fidgeted in her seat, playing with a loose thread on her dress.  She’d stayed up most of the night trying to figure out how to explain what had happened to Dr. Leland without making it sound really stupid.  Nothing had occurred to her.

“You know how I’ve been spendin’ time with Batman?” she started.

Leland nodded. “Yes of course.  You said he’s been very supportive during the transition.  Why, did something happen?”

“Sorta,” she hedged. “See it’s like this.  I’ve been tryin’ to date a little.  You know, put myself back out there.”

“That’s very good, Harley,” Dr. Leland said proudly. “It’s a scary step, but I’m glad you’re taking it.”

“Yeah, well, it didn’t really go so well.  Most of the guys were either scared of me or creeps.  I only had one date that lasted longer than a half an hour, and even he was real weird.”

Dr. Leland nodded sympathetically. “I imagine that was discouraging.  It’s good that you didn’t take it farther, though.  You deserve someone who will treat you well.”

“See that’s the thing.  I was thinkin’ along the same lines, and someone kinda came to mind.” Harley took a deep breath, steeling herself. “I may have, kinda, ended up takin’ a pass at Batman.”

Dr. Leland was good, Harley had to giver her that.  She didn’t give any signs of surprise at hearing this.  Maybe she’d been expecting that. “Did he turn you down?  Is that why you called?”

Harley flushed a deep red. “Uh, no, he actually said yes.  We uh, kinda slept together.”

Leland’s eyes widened for the briefest instant before she got herself back under control.  That right there said a lot.  Leland was an excellent therapist and knew that one of the keys to an effective therapeutic environment was not to let one’s own feelings interfere with the treatment.  That she’d displayed even a little bit of surprise gave some indication of how crazy this must have sounded.

“When did this happen?” Leland asked, scribbling on her pad of notes, probably as an excuse to compose herself.

“Friday,” Harley replied in a small voice.

“And how are you feeling about it now?” Dr. Leland was fully back to her professional mode now.

“I’m not sure,” Harley admitted. “I was real excited about it for a while.  I mean, he’s been so nice to me, and we get along super well.  But then I started thinkin,’ I don’t even know his name?”

Dr. Leland looked at her curiously. “You mean he left his mask on?”

Harley’s face burned again. “No uh, I used a blindfold.  So I couldn’t see, you know.” She knew Dr. Leland had heard far weirder stuff than this, but it still made her incredibly self-conscious to talk about.

“Is it bothering you, that you don’t know who he is?”

Harley shrugged. “Kinda.  It’s a little weird right?  Here I am, spendin’ all this time with him, but I don’t know much about him.”

“Does he not share personal details about himself?” Dr. Leland asked.

Harley frowned as she thought about it. “Well, I guess he does a bit.  He don’t tell me about his family or job or anything, but he talks about places he’s been or what he does to relax.  He told me his favorite food, and I made it for him a couple weeks back.  He says he couldn’t even get his friends to try it with him.”

“It sounds like you and he have gotten close,” Dr. Leland observed.

“I suppose.  But that’s the thing, Doc, I don’t really know.” Harley stood up and started pacing around the small office.  Leland looked on, unconcerned. “I don’t know enough about him to say one way or the other.  Sometimes I wonder if I’m doin’ everything on his terms, you know?”

Dr. Leland leaned forward. “Does he not tell you when he’s going to come by?”

“No,” Harley replied. “I let him know when I’m feelin’ like a visit.”

“Has he ever pushed you to talk about anything you didn’t want to?”

“Not really.  Well, we got an arrangement,” Harley amended. “I help him get in the heads of bad guys sometimes, so he can take ‘em down better.  But only if _I_ feel like it, and he’s gotta answer my questions too, afterwards.”

“And does he?”

“Yeah, he’s always honest.  I can tell cuz he gets real shy.”

Dr. Leland switched directions. “What about when you slept together.  You said you initiated, but had he ever made it seem like he wanted more from your relationship?”

Harley thought about it for less than a second. “No, he was always lettin’ me set the boundaries.  Decidin’ what I wanted us to be.”

“And during, did he do anything you didn’t want to, or that made you uncomfortable?”

Harley couldn’t help grinning. “Not even a little.”

The psychiatrist sat back in her chair. “Well, Harley, unless there’s something else you haven’t told me, it sounds like you’re very much in control of your relationship with Batman.  You appear to have set boundaries and terms extremely well.”

Harley found this reassuring, but there was one lingering thing that she couldn’t stop thinking about. “It’s just…Doc, I didn’t know Joker’s name either.”

Dr. Leland smiled sympathetically. “I know.  And I can see how the similarity might make you nervous.  But I don’t think you need to be overly worried.”

“How do you know though?” Harley came back over to sit across from her doctor. “What if I’m just goin’ in circles, switchin’ from one crazy loon to another?”

“It’s always possible,” Dr. Leland allowed. “I think you need to ask yourself if the way that Batman treats you reminds you of the Joker.  Does me make you feel worse about yourself?  Does he not respect your choices or your opinions?  Does he ignore your preferences?  Does he try to make you into something you’re not?  Something _he_ thinks you should be?”

Harley thought back across the last several months, and the many interactions she’d had with Bats during that time.  She couldn’t think of a single instance that fit that description. “No, he’s never done anything like that.”

Leland set down her legal pad. “Then I wouldn’t worry.  So long as you pay attention, you should be able to avoid getting caught in a relationship like Joker again.”

Harley leaned back and finally let herself relax.  She could feel a weight lifting off her shoulders at Dr. Leland’s words.

“There is one more thing I’d like to ask, if you don’t mind?” Dr. Leland said.

“Go ahead, Doc.”

“I’m sure you’re aware that there are limits to any relationship you have with Batman right now?  Have you given any thought to whether you’d like the two of you to be something more?”

Harley hadn’t really given the future much thought.  She’d been very focused on the immediate present, it hadn’t occurred to her to consider where this was all going.  Dr. Leland seemed to sense this.

“Because if you do,” she pressed, “at some point you’ll have to ask who he is.”

“Yeah, I know,” Harley said unhappily. “And I wanna know who he is, I really do.  I’m just afraid I’ll scare him off.  He’s so skittish, you know?  What if I ask, and he doesn’t want anythin’ to do with me anymore?”

“That’s a possibility,” Dr. Leland admitted. “But that’s what relationships are.  Us baring our souls to each other, no matter how scary.  I can tell you care about him, but I think you need to ask yourself if it’s worth it if he’s not willing to share that part of himself with you?”

Harley nodded miserably.  She knew Dr. Leland was right, but it was a hard pill to swallow.  As much as she loved what she had right now, she couldn’t pretend she didn’t want more.  At the end of the day, she didn’t want the Batman.  She wanted the man hiding beneath Batman.

On the way home, she got a text.  The blocked number with a familiar little symbol popped up on her screen.

_We should talk.  Can I come by tonight?_

Harley stared at the message for a long time before replying.

_Sure._

It seemed the weekend still had things in store for her.


	15. Heart to Heart (NSFW)

Bruce spent a lot of time thinking about what he would say to Harley when he saw her.  Alfred was right, their current arrangement was not at all fair to her.  She deserved someone who didn’t wear a mask.  Now he just had to make her understand, and he thought he had a way…

She was waiting for him as he came through the window and flashed a warm smile when she saw him.

“Hey, Bats!” She got up and came over to give him a hug and a kiss.  He held onto her, enjoying having her close at least one more time.

“You want somethin’ to drink?” she asked once they separated. “I found that loose leaf place you mentioned.  Picked up some good stuff if you wanna try?”

“Not right now,” he said as gently as he could. “I wanted to talk first.”

She put up a decent show of being her usual, bouncy self, but he could tell she was apprehensive. “Sure thing.  What about?”

He sat down across from her at the table. “I was hoping I could ask your help one last time.”

She looked at him curiously. “Not sure I’m in the mood for psychology tonight, Bats.”

“I know,” he said apologetically. “And I’m sorry to ask.  But it’s important.  Please?”

She took a breath. “Alright, if you really wanna.  Who do you need help figurin’ out?”

“Myself.”

Her eyebrows went up in surprise. “You wanna hit me with that one again, Bats?”

He looked at her seriously. “I want you to analyze me.  Tell me what you can infer about me.”

“Why, I don’t get it?”

“Just trust me,” he said. “It’s important.”

She shrugged, looking almost indifferent. “Not sure what I can tell ya.  You dress up like a bat to fight crime.  What else is there to say?”

“We could start with why I do what I do,” he suggested.

“To fight crime,” she replied wryly. “I thought that was kinda obvious.”

He scowled. “There has to be more you can figure out than that.”

She glared right back. “Like what?  You want me to tell you you’re probably suffering PTSD as a result of childhood trauma?  Cuz I’m pretty sure you already knew that.”

This wasn’t going the way he’d thought it would. “What about why I wear a mask?”

“Again, pretty obvious,” she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “You got people you’re tryin’ to protect.”

“What does it say about potential issues with intimacy?” he prompted but she wasn’t biting.

“You tell me, you’ve obviously it some thought.”

“That isn’t how this is supposed to work,” he objected. “You’re supposed to give me _your_ opinion.”

“And _you’re_ supposed to ask about real criminals,” she shot back at him.

“I am a criminal,” he pointed out. “Every night I put on this suit I’m breaking the law.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah and the Police Commissioner seems real upset about it.  You know what I mean, this wasn’t how the deal was supposed to work.  So why don’t you cut the bullshit and tell me what the fuck’s got you bent out of shape?  What’s this _really_ about?”

They glared at each other over the table.  Ordinarily, having Batman scowl at them was more than enough to get a person to crack, but Harley was no ordinary person.  She gave as good as she got in the scowling department, and he was eventually forced to admit defeat.

“What I’m trying to get you to think about,” he bit out through gritted teeth, “is whether I’m really the kind of partner you want.”

“What makes you think I haven’t thought about that already?” she said caustically.

“And?”

“And what?  You wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want you as a partner,” she replied simply.

“Are you serious?” He couldn’t disguise his shock. “You really think _I’m_ good enough to be with you?”

She looked at him in bewilderment. “What makes _you_ think you’re not?”

“You said it yourself.  PTSD, childhood trauma, and difficulty establishing intimacy.”

Harley motioned at herself. “Borderline personality disorder with a history of abusive relationships and a string of felony convictions.  And _you_ brought up the intimacy stuff, not me.”

“And yet, which of us went from incarceration to being a productive member of society with an excellent job in less than six months?” he retorted heatedly. “I’ve been doing this for _sixteen years_ and you’re already better adjusted than I am.  You don’t need me making it harder for you to live a normal life.”

She snorted derisively. “Well-adjusted my ass, Bats I’m barely hangin’ on most days.  I feel like any second I might break down and they’ll have to haul me back to the loony bin.  _You’re_ half the reason I’m not back in there already.  Everythin’ you’ve done for me, all the faith you’ve shown in me.  How’s that not _good_ for me?  If anything, we should be talkin’ about why _I’m_ not good enough for _you_.”

It was his turn to scoff. “You have to be kidding.  Do you have any idea how much the last few months have meant to me?  I barely have anyone else in my life who treats me the way you do.  Like a normal person.  I haven’t had anything like that in decades!”

Harley looked skeptical. “Come on, that can’t be true.  You gotta take off the mask occasionally?  No one ever sees you in the daylight.  What about then?”

“Then I have to keep up appearances,” he explained, frustration leaking into his voice. “No one can guess I’m the Batman.  They have to take it for granted that it could never be me.  I never get to just be myself.  The masks don’t come off.  Ever!”

“Why not give it a try?” Harley suggested. “Take it off now.”

He looked away. “You wouldn’t like the face underneath.  You wouldn’t want me.  I can’t give you the life you deserve.”

“Why don’t you let me decide that for myself?” Harley replied angrily. “Instead of assumin’ what you think I want.  You know I respect your privacy; I ain’t gonna tell anyone who you are, no matter what.  Even if this ends badly, even if I lose my mind and end up back in Arkham, I’ll never tell a single person who you are!  So, take the damn mask off already!”

With an almost frantic motion, Bruce tore the cowl from his face and threw it across the room.  He stared at Harley defiantly.

She stared back, shock written all over her face.

 ***

The first, rather silly thought that went through Harley’s head upon seeing Bats unmasked for the first time was, _Why’s he look like Bruce Wayne?_

The second, coming quickly after the first was, _Oh.  Well that’s interesting._

A lot of things became very clear to her very quickly, even as a million more questions occurred to her.

First and foremost, it answered the question of where Batman got all the money for his gadgets.  Being a billionaire in charge of a tech company had to make that pretty easy.  She had to assume Fox knew, given some of the devices she’d seen him dream up.

It also automatically answered the question of who the first Robin was; she remembered how big a deal the media had made when Bruce Wayne adopted the orphan acrobat Dick Grayson.  She was sure the other two Robins and Batgirl would be also be fairly straightforward to figure out once she had some time to think about it.

The first question it raised was a selfish one.  If Batman was Bruce Wayne, she wondered if he’d just given her a job because he felt sorry for her.  She put a pin in that thought for the moment, because there was a far more pressing issue to address.

She now understood why Bruce Wayne acted like such a bland, brainless, buffoon all the time.  He was trying to deflect suspicion, make it so that no one in their right mind would ever associate him with Batman.  Otherwise it was an easy leap to make.  Bruce Wayne was mainly famous for two things; being ungodly rich, and being an orphan.  On their own, those two things would automatically lead one to assume he could be Batman.  But the second he opened his mouth, you discounted the possibility without even thinking.  Even Harley hadn’t given him a second look, and she saw Batman regularly.

That was what he meant by always wearing a mask.  Even when he wasn’t Batman, he had to put on a persona.  He never got to just be himself.  And if she were with him, she’d have to play along, support the fiction of the idiot billionaire Bruce Wayne.  He assumed that she wouldn’t think he was worth the trouble.

Well fuck him.  She’d show him just how worth it he was.

She stood up and walked slowly around the table.  Bruce’s clear, pale blue gaze followed her the whole way, and she could tell he was steeling himself for rejection.

When she reached him, she ran a hand through his tousled black hair.

“You outta think about wearin’ a skull cap under the mask,” she said. “Makes it easier to deal with your hair when you take it off.”

He looked at her in surprise.  She smiled and leaned down to kiss him.  It took him a moment to respond, by which point she’d seated herself firmly in his lap with her arms around his neck.  The burning desire that she’d mostly been able to keep under control the last few months rose inside of her as they kissed.

Harley was unable to wait any longer and started tearing at his suit, desperate to get at him.  She figured out how to get the cape and gloves off, but the rest of it eluded her.

“Get this fucking thing off!” she demanded.

“You’ll need to get up for a second,” he said, struggling with the suit as well.

She scrunched up her face unhappily and reluctantly pulled herself away from him.  He started pulling at the flexible material of the bodysuit, getting his arms free and shoving it down his legs.  While he argued with the boots, Harley quickly divested herself of all clothing and took the opportunity to get a good eyeful of his naked body for the first time.

He was leaner than she’d expected; the suit made him look at lot bulkier.  He was still heavily muscled, but in a good way, as opposed to the grotesque meatheads Joker used to employ.  Those guys pumped iron until their biceps were literally larger than their heads.  By contrast, she decided Bruce was perfectly proportioned.

The moment he managed to get free of the suit she pounced on him.  He’d been trying to stand up, but she knocked him back onto the chair, which wobbled dangerously for a moment before they both rebalanced.  Their bodies pressed against one another, skin meeting skin everywhere.  Too impatient for any kind of foreplay, Harley lifted her hips and positioned him at her entrance.  He felt just as big as he had two days ago, and she whimpered as she lowered herself a little faster than was wise onto to him. It was worth it though for the way that he groaned against her neck.

She moved up and down on his lap frantically, helped along by his strong hands cupping her ass.  She couldn’t look away from him, drinking in the flutter of his eyes and the way his brow furrowed in concentration.  He was glorious to her, and she thought she’d be happy to watch his face contort in pleasure for the rest of her life.

She could tell he was getting close when his hands left her ass and tried to slow down the rocking of her hips, but Harley was having none of that.  She didn’t care that she wasn’t close to an orgasm yet, she just wanted to feel him lose control inside of her.

And lose control he did, bucking his hips up into her.  She stared into his eyes the whole time, moaning along with him as he filled her.  He buried his head against her chest as he breathed heavily in the aftermath of his orgasm.  She stroked his hair gently, letting him recover.

When he leaned back, she looked down at him seriously.

“Alright, let’s get a couple things clear,” she announced.  He looked taken aback by her tone. “I don’t ever want you pullin’ that kinda weird psychological shit with me again.  You got a problem, or you’re worried about something, you come out and tell me, got it?”

He nodded warily.

“Good.  Next, I’m perfectly capable of decidin’ who and what I want for myself.  If I say I want you, that means I want you.  I don’t give a fuck what you think I do and don’t deserve; you don’t get to make those kinds of decisions for me!  I know I’ve had shit judgement in the past, but if you trust me enough to tell me who you are, you better trust my opinion of you too.  Agreed?”

Again, he nodded.

She took a deep breath. “Alright, last bit.  You asked your question, now it’s my turn.  Do you wanna be with me?  And you should know, I’m not talkin’ about just late-night visits.  When I say I want you, I mean I want _all_ of you.  I’m not compromisin’ on that anymore, and if that’s a deal breaker, I wanna know now.”

Bruce looked up at her, his expression longing, but conflicted. “You know it will be difficult.”

“Ain’t nothin’ in my life been easy, why should this be?” Harley retorted. “I know it’ll be tough, I know it’ll suck sometimes.  I don’t care.  I want _you_.  Do you want _me_?”

She watched with bated breath as he made up his mind.  It didn’t take long. “Yes.  I do.”

“That’s a good start,” she allowed. “Now tell me why.”

He blinked. “Excuse me?”

“I wanna know why,” she said again, her heart pounding in her chest. “Because I want you more than anything’ in the world.  I wanna be with you for the rest of my life, cuz you make me feel like the rest of my life won’t be so bad." The words fell out of her in a rush. "So if we’re gonna do this, I wanna know whether I’m readin’ more into us than there is.”

He gulped visibly. “You’re not.  I…I want the same.  I love you.”

She looked at him sternly, refusing to let what he'd said affect her better judgement. “You mean it?  You’re not just getting’ caught up in the moment?  Cuz I’d rather find out now than later.”

He shook his head. “No, I mean it completely.  I love you, Harley, with all my heart.”

Her heart melted and she leaned down to kiss him. “I love you too, you big cape-wearing dumbass.  Now take me over to the bed show me.”

Bruce lavished her with attention that night.  He went down on her again, which she wasn’t expecting after he’d already come inside her.  She rode him some more, gently this time, and discovered that he was just as graceful on his back as his front.  After she’d had a couple orgasms of her own, he rolled back on top and pushed frantically to his second release.

She whispered his name into his ear in ecstasy as he thrust into her with wild abandon until he exploded deep inside of her once again.

Afterwards they lay, wrapped in each other’s arms.  Now, in the safety of the afterglow, Harley allowed herself to consider some of the questions she’d been putting off.

“I got somethin’ to ask you,” she said, raising her head off his shoulder.

He tilted his head to look at her. “What is it?”

“Did you give me either of those jobs outta pity?” she asked. “Cuz I don’t like handouts.”

“No,” he replied immediately. “You were perfectly qualified for both.  And the latest one wasn’t even my decision.  I thought you’d be good for it, but Lucius had final say.  If he didn’t think you had what it took, we wouldn’t have made the offer.”

She squinted at him. “You bein’ honest with me?”

“Always,” he reassured her.

Slightly mollified, she laid her head back down. “I’m assumin’ Lucius knows who you are?  That’s where you get all your toys, right?”

She felt him nod. “He’s one of the few.”

“Who are the others?” she asked curiously.

He hesitated. “Is it alright if I don’t answer just yet?  I haven’t talked to most of them about us, and they deserve to know before I tell you.”

She was a little disappointed but understood where he was coming from. “I can deal with that.  I’d like to meet ‘em at some point, if they’re okay with it.”

“You will,” he assured her. “I just need to explain the situation to them.”

“I bet they’re a little skeptical of me,” Harley guessed wryly. “It’s gotta be weird havin’ Batman sleepin’ with Harley Quinn.”

“A bit,” he admitted. “Lucius is on your side.  That’s a big help, we all respect him.”

“Was the whole Batman thing his idea?”

“No, it was mine.  Others came on later.  I’ll explain it all to you once I’ve told everyone else.”

“Can’t wait!” She meant it too.  Now that the secret was out, she was eager to hear the full story of how Batman had come to be. “I’m guessin’ you still can’t stay the night?”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I can stay a while longer, but there are still things to take care of.”

“I figured.” She tried not to feel too disappointed; she knew this would be part of dating the Batman. “Not yet though?”

“Not yet.”

She flipped back on top of him and took hold of his cock. “Good!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, the secret's out now! I just wanted to drop a quick note thanking everyone for reading along and giving such nice feedback on this story! Rest assured, we're just getting started, and I have plenty more to come!


	16. Conversations

Bruce stood in front of the Batcomputer, watching the indicator lights blink for a long time.  Barbara, Dick, and Tim had all been signed onto the call for several minutes now, but he still hadn’t brought up their video feeds. He knew he’d have to, eventually, but he kept putting it off.  It was going to be a tough conversation, no matter what happened, and he wasn’t looking forward to it one bit.

Alfred, on his way across the cave, stopped to say, “Best to get it over with, Master Bruce.”

Bruce nodded.  Taking a deep, steadying breath, he hit the button.

The faces of his three closest allies popped up on the screen.  Dick’s feed showed the large, ultramodern condo he’d purchased in Bludhaven, Oracle’s the circular apex of the Clocktower, and Tim’s a sparse university apartment.

“Hey Bruce,” Dick said easily, “nice of you to show up.  What’s so important I had to wake up before three?”

“I have something to tell you all,” Bruce said, looking at each in turn.

Dick was suddenly alert. “What’s wrong?  Joker didn’t manage a breakout did he?”

“No,” Bruce said quickly. “It’s nothing like that.  This is personal.”

That made Dick, if anything, even more alarmed.  Barbara and Tim by contrast looked grim.  He was sure they had a text chat open between them and were even now conferring.

The biggest issue with telling Harley who he was, aside from actually doing it, was how it would affect these three in particular.  There was simply no way to involve her in his life without eventually telling her about his partners in crime fighting.  Only a precious few souls knew his identity.  Of those, Alfred had already been told, and Bruce would appraise Lucius later that afternoon.  He anticipated no objections; Lucius had taken to Harley quite well.

Dick, Barbara, and Tim, on the other hand, might object more strenuously.  Unlike Alfred or Lucius, Dick and Barbara had actually encountered Harley Quinn at the height of her criminal career.  While Tim hadn’t, he tended to follow Barbara’s lead on such things.  Regardless, there was something about being out in the field that tended to increase one’s suspicions.  Bruce did not anticipate any of them taking kindly to him revealing their operation to a former super villain.

But there was nothing for it.  Like Alfred said, he just had to get it over with.

“There’s not an easy way to say this.  Barbara and Tim are already somewhat aware of the situation,” he told Dick. “For the past few months, I’ve been spending time with Harley Quinzel.  Recently we became involved, and last night, I told her who I was.”

Their reactions were just as he’d predicted.  Dick’s face took on a look of blank shock, while Barbara and Tim’s reflected mixed resignation and disapproval.

“I’m telling you because it’s unlikely I can keep your identities secret from her,” Bruce went on. “She’s probably already guessed Dick’s and it won’t take long to figure out Tim’s, even if I don’t tell her.  Regardless, she’s expressed an interest in meeting all of you at some point.  I wanted to let you know as soon as possible.”

There was a bit of silence before Barbara spoke up.  To her credit, she managed to keep most of the disapproval out of her voice. “Why didn’t you consult us beforehand, Bruce?  It would have been better to get some warning.”

“I know, and I’m sorry,” Bruce said as sincerely as he could. “I meant to, but I wasn’t sure it would come to that.  It wasn’t a planned decision to tell her.”

“I’m not sure I buy that,” Barbara replied skeptically. “You always have a plan, why not this time?”

“I did have a plan,” he admitted, “it was just the wrong one.  I assumed, if she actually thought about it, that she wouldn’t be interested in a relationship with the person behind the Batman.  I expected her to break it off, and then we wouldn’t be in this situation.  I was wrong.”

“That doesn’t happen too often.” Barbara’s tone was almost accusatory.

Normally he wouldn’t respond, but he felt obliged to offer them an explanation.  They deserved to know why he’d put them in danger, even if it was negligible. “It’s been a long time since I’ve gotten close to anyone this way.  You didn’t even know who I was back then, Barbara.  It’s more complicated than I remembered.”

Barbara sighed and ran a hand through her hair. “Look, I get it Bruce, this can get pretty lonely sometimes.  It makes sense you’d want to have someone besides us to share that with.  But, honestly, Harley Quinn?  She hasn’t even been out of Arkham that long.  How do you know she won’t backslide?  What if the Joker _does_ break out again somehow, and he comes to her for help?  Are you really confident that she won’t run back to him if he asks?”

They were good questions, to which he had only one answer. “I trust her.”

“Obviously.  But you’re asking _us_ to trust her as well, and I’m not sure how we can do that.”

Bruce was spared having to respond by Dick, who had recovered from his surprise. “Let’s relax a bit, Barb, I think we’re all getting carried away.”

Barbara frowned. “Don’t you think this is kind of a big deal, Dick?”

Dick shrugged. “Sort of, but I don’t think it’s a huge cause for concern.”

Barbara and Tim looked as shocked as Bruce felt.  He hadn’t expected Dick to come to his defense.

“How can you say that?” Barbara said incredulously. “This is Harley Quinn we’re talking about!”

“No, it’s not.  Not anymore,” Dick contradicted her. “You and Tim only dealt with her _after_ she joined the Joker.  Don’t forget Bruce and I knew her before.  She was a good woman; she cared a lot about what she did.  From everything I’ve heard, she’s trying to be that person again.”

“So, we should just forget about all those years she spent with the Joker?” Barbara challenged him.

“I’m not saying that,” Dick replied patiently. “I’m saying we should remember most people aren’t just good or bad.  Most people are complicated, and I doubt Harley’s any exception.  If Bruce trusts her, why shouldn’t we give her a chance?”

“Because she supported the most vicious son of a bitch any of us have ever seen!” Barbara was getting visibly angry. “Have you all forgotten what he did to me?”

“No one’s forgotten anything,” Bruce said gently. “But Harley left the Joker nearly a year before he attacked you.  In fact, there was never any evidence that she was involved in his more violent crimes.  She was never charged with anything more severe than assault.”

“Yeah, but there were a lot of those, weren’t there?” Barbara retorted.

“There were,” he allowed. “But we can’t hold her responsible for the Joker’s actions, any more than we can blame ourselves.  We’ve all wondered whether we’re to blame for the more vicious criminals in this city.  At the end of the day, their actions are their own, and no one else’s.  And Harley chose to turn herself in, and to do everything she could to help us bring down the Joker for good.  She’s assured me that our secrets will be kept in the strictest of confidence, no matter what happens between us, and I believe her.”

Tim had remained silent throughout the exchange, but he now spoke up, looking a bit nervous. “Barbara, I know I’m new to this, but it seems like it’ll be okay.  I mean, I was there with Bruce when she had that problem with her parole last year, and she seemed sincere.  If Bruce says she’s doing better, shouldn’t we trust him?”

Barbara sighed in frustration. “What do Alfred and Lucius think about this?”

“Alfred is reserving judgement at the moment,” Bruce said. “But he’s willing to give her the benefit of the doubt.  Lucius likes her.  They’ve become friends.”

Barbara’s eyes flicked around the screen, realizing she was outnumbered by their little coterie. “Fine,” she said admitting defeat. “If you all think it’s a good idea, I won’t argue anymore.  But you better hope this doesn’t blow up in our faces.”

With that, she disconnected her feed.

Tim winced at the remaining pair. “Sorry, Bruce, you know how she is with anything Joker related.  I’ll try to talk with her.”

He signed off as well, leaving just Dick and Bruce.

“Thank you, Dick,” he said sincerely. “I didn’t expect you to take it so well.”

Dick shrugged, “Hey, I know how hard it is to meet someone doing what we do.  Barbara and Tim have it easy, they found each other.  Neither of them has had to try to figure it out with regular folks.  I’m just glad you found someone; I thought for a while there you’d given up.”

“I had,” Bruce admitted. “I wasn’t expecting something like this to happen, least of all with Harley.” He rubbed tired eyes. “Sometimes I think the universe just likes playing jokes on me.”

“Then I guess there’s nothing you can do but laugh along.” Dick smiled consolingly. “Well, if you make it out to Bludhaven anytime soon you should bring her along.  I’ve been curious to see the new Harley for a while now.  And like you said, she’s probably already figured out who I am.  She’d have to be an idiot not to, and she never seemed like an idiot to me.”

“No,” Bruce said, almost to himself. “No, she isn’t.”

Dick signed off, and Bruce sat back in his chair.  Alfred returned to the computer.

“That seemed to go well.”

“Only because Dick stepped in,” Bruce remarked. “Barbara doesn’t give up easily.”

“How unlike someone I know,” Alfred said mildly. “Still, it must be a relief to have that over with?”

“Not really,” Bruce replied heavily, getting to his feet. “That was the easy part.  I don’t suppose you’d be willing to help with the next one?”

Alfred didn’t even hesitate. “Not in this lifetime, sir.  In fact, I think I have a few errands I’ve been neglecting.  Alert me if the house is still standing in an hour.”

Bruce sighed. “I wish you were exaggerating.”

He made his way out of the cave and into the manor proper.  His trepidation grew as he marched up the stairs and along a quiet hallway.  Standing outside the farthest bedroom door, he took a deep breath before knocking gently.

“It’s Bruce.  Can I come in?”

A pause. “You may enter.”

Shaking his head ruefully, Bruce stepped inside.  The room was decorated like an exhibit from an archaeological museum.  Scrolls and tapestries hung from the walls, written in languages even _Bruce_ couldn’t read.  A set of ceremonial daggers stood on the dresser, and an honest-to-God Pharaoh’s mask sat on the desk.  Bruce was almost positive it was genuine, but he’d never gotten up the nerve to verify.

Sitting next to the desk, with a book open in his hands, was a boy of eleven with black hair and piercing blue eyes.  He was small for his age, but something about the way he carried himself made him look much more imposing.  His posture was impeccably straight, and he somehow made the simple wooden chair seem like a throne.

“Yes, Father?” Damian Wayne said formally.

Steeling himself, Bruce perched on the bed across from his son. “I have something important to talk to you about.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so I have a confession to make. This story wasn't originally meant to include Damian. Frankly I never enjoyed his inclusion in the Batman canon, and I can't stand the few pieces I've read with him.
> 
> However, as I was rereading and editing, I started feeling like something was missing. I had the vast majority of the story drafted without Damian before I began posting. But the second half was unfocused; lacking that special something to pull it all together. To my surprise, that missing piece appears to be Damian. 
> 
> Now, I want to warn anyone who, unlike me, is a fan of Damian's that his portrayal will probably not resemble his appearances in the comics. If anything, I was most inspired by humorous Batfam posts on Pinterest. He will not, for example, be Robin, mostly because I'm extremely uncomfortable with the child soldier elements of many Batman stories. He also won't be a vicious psycho killer, because that just didn't sound very fun. He will, however, be really weird, but hopefully in a fun way.
> 
> Moving forward, I might be posting a little less regularly to allow me time to edit and rewrite chapters to reflect Damian's inclusion in the story. Thanks for your patience and for reading along!


	17. Extended Author Note - Timeline and Other Additions

I've had one or two folks ask about ages of the characters and stuff like that, so I decided to upload the timeline I created for this fic.  I'm also throwing in my Myers-Briggs typing of some of the characters, if that's your kind of thing.  I'm not a big believer of MBTI as a real life psychological test, but it's a lot of fun for fictional characters.

**Timeline**

  * June 1989 
    * Thomas and Martha Wayne murdered when Bruce 8-9
  * 2005 
    * Bruce (age 25) returns to Gotham, becomes Batman
  * 2006 
    * Penguin returns to Gotham, begins moving on established crime families
  * 2007 
    * Bruce adopts Dick Grayson (age 15)
    * First appearance of the Joker
    * Batman develops partnership with Harvey Dent and GCPD
  * 2008 
    * Two-Face born
  * 2009 
    * Dick (age 17) becomes the first Robin
    * Riddler, Mr. Freeze, and Catwoman become active in Gotham
    * Harleen Quinzel (age 26) and Dr. Jonathan Crane join the staff of the newly opened Arkham Asylum
  * 2010 
    * Harley Quinn joins Joker
    * Jonathan Crane becomes Scarecrow
    * Barbara (age 18) becomes Batgirl
  * 2011 
    * Bruce adopts orphan Jason Todd (age 13) after he attempts to steal the Batmobile’s tires
    * Poison Ivy, Mad Hatter, and Man-Bat become active in Gotham
  * 2013 
    * Dick graduates college, becomes Nightwing
    * Bruce begins training Jason Todd as new Robin
  * 2014 
    * Bane arrives in Gotham, severely injures Batman
  * 2015 
    * Bruce recovers, defeats Bane with Jason and Barbara
    * Joker kills Jason (age 17)
    * Harley leaves Joker for Ivy
  * 2016 
    * Jason is resurrected by Ra’s al Ghul, returns to Gotham, tries to kill Joker, becomes Red Hood. Disappears following an explosion, presumed dead.
  * 2017 
    * Joker paralyzes Barbara
    * Harley turns in Joker
  * 2018 
    * Tim Drake (age 20) deduces Bruce and Dick’s identities, becomes new Robin
    * Damian arrives (age 9)
  * 2020 
    * Harley (age 37) released from Arkham 
      * Batman (age 40), Dick (28)
      * Jason (21-22?)
      * Damian (11)
      * Tim (22) & Barbara (28)



**MBTI**

Harleen Quinzel - INFJ (presents as ESTP during time as Harley Quinn)

Bruce Wayne/Batman - INTJ

Alfred Pennyworth - ISFJ

Dick Grayson - ENFP

Barbara Gordon - ISFP

Tim Drake - ENTJ

Damian Wayne - INFP

Jason Todd - ENFJ

The Joker - ENTP


	18. Confessions

Harley’s day started out well, but it didn’t quite end that way.

Lucius called her into his office not long after she’d gotten in.  She assumed it was to discuss her latest contract, but he surprised her by carefully locking the office door and sitting down next her.

“So, Harley, I understand that our mutual friend let you in on our little secret.” His voice was low, as if they were discussing something covert, which she supposed they were.

“He told you already?” Harley whispered back, feeling a little nervous.

“Just this morning.” Lucius smiled at her. “Welcome to the family, Harley.  It’s been a while since we had any new members.”

“Wait, you’re not upset?” she asked in surprise.

“Why would I be upset?”

“I thought maybe you’d be worried about me and him, or somethin’,” she admitted. “Like you wouldn’t trust that I’m bein’ honest.”

“Ahh,” Fox said knowingly. “Well let me put your mind to ease.  Bruce told you it was my decision whether to hire you?” She nodded. “What he wouldn’t have known is why.  You could have easily given us a lot of different advice in that interview.  There were things you could have improved marginally, instead of exponentially.  But when we asked your help, you handed us suggestions that would make it nearly impossible for people like your former employer to take advantage of us.  You didn’t need to do that.  You could have taken that information and auctioned it off to the highest bidder.  You’d have made a fortune.”

Harley looked down self-consciously. “It honestly didn’t occur to me.”

“I know,” he said with a paternal smile. “That’s why I hired you, and that’s why I’m glad we can share this secret.  I can tell you genuinely care.”

She smiled back. “Thanks, Fox.  Bruce said you were on my side, but I guess I didn’t really believe him.”

“Well I am,” he said with a comforting little pat on her knee. “And if any of the others give you trouble, you just send them to me.  I’ll sort them right out.”

Unfortunately, she didn’t get to take him up on that offer.

When she got home that evening, she could tell that her locks had been tampered with.  It was subtle, whoever had broken in had done a very good job with the lockpicks, but she knew the signs to look for.  She couldn’t quite understand why someone with such skill had chosen to break into a tiny apartment in the Narrows, but she could figure that out after she beat them into a pulp.

Setting down her groceries next to the door, she turned the handle slowly, hoping to surprise her would-be burglars in the act.  She was expecting a couple of brutish looking thugs in ski masks ransacking the place looking for electronics or jewelry.

She was _not_ expecting a redhead in a wheelchair, facing the door calmly.

Harley stopped dead in her tracks, looking at the redhead in confusion.  For her part, the young woman didn’t react strongly to Harley bursting in on her.

“Harley Quinn?” she asked, as if to make sure she had the right apartment.

“Yeah that’s me,” Harley replied numbly.  She took note of the use of her old name, which got her fogged brain working again.

“I’m Barbara Gordon,” the woman said by way of introduction.

Harley relaxed from her fighting crouch. “Yeah I know who you are.” She meant it a couple ways.  Her mind was running fast now, and it took her only a couple seconds to put a few pieces of information together.  Obviously, she knew the daughter of the Police Commissioner.  The rest fell into place pretty quickly.  The tell-tale escrima sticks strapped to the sides of the wheelchair were a big clue.

Harley leaned back into the hallway to grab her groceries.  A sense of trepidation was starting to grow in the pit of her stomach.

“I’m guessin’ the conversation with Bruce didn’t go so well,” she surmised, closing the door and redoing the locks.

Barbara frowned. “Did he tell you already?”

Harley shook her head. “No, but I figure you wouldn’t be here if it had.”

“I thought he hadn’t told you who we were.”

“He didn’t,” Harley said, not looking at her uninvited guest as she put away her shopping. “But it don’t take a genius to figure out who you are.  I wondered why I hadn’t heard anything about Batgirl in a while.  I assumed you retired after Joker got put away.”

“In a manner of speaking.” She could hear the pain in Barbara’s voice, despite her attempts to mask it. “I still help, just not in the field.”

Harley finished sorting out her groceries, trying to delay looking back at the girl in the wheelchair.  Part of her hoped she would just go away if Harley ignored her, but she’d never been that lucky.  After a while she couldn’t pretend any longer, and she turned back to face Barbara, who was still just sitting there in the middle of her apartment, looking at her.

“Is this a shakeup then?” Harley asked. “You gonna tell me to stay away from your boss or you’ll make me regret it?”

“I might.” Barbara’s tone was calm, but there was a fire burning in her eyes. “First I want to know what your play is.  What are you hoping to get out of Bruce?”

Harley arched an eyebrow. “Well it’s still a bit early, but I was thinkin’ companionship, stability, happiness, all those nice things you know?”

Barbara scowled at her. “Why don’t you try giving me a serious answer?”

“What makes you think that wasn’t serious?” Harley replied.

“You expect me to believe you just _happened_ to develop feelings for Batman right after being released for Arkham?” Barbara said heatedly. “That this wasn’t all something you planned?”

“I don’t expect you to believe nothin,” Harley shot back. “I’ve seen interrogations where the person wants a specific answer.  You know what you wanna hear, and _I_ know I ain’t got a chance of convincing you otherwise.  So why don’t we just assume I confessed to some villainous plan to destroy Bruce’s life, and you can skip to the part where you threaten me?”

Barbara continued to scowl at her for a moment, then to Harley’s surprise, the redhead took a deep breath, and her expression softened slightly. “You’re right, I’m assuming too much at the outset.  Give me an honest answer then, why _are_ you with Bruce?”

“Because I love him,” Harley said simply. “He helped me put myself back together after Joker.  He was one of the only ones who showed any faith in me.  That I could be anything other than Harley- _fucking_ -Quinn.”

Barbara stared at her intently, probably trying to get a read on whether she was being honest. “So you’re what?  Trying to escape your past?”

Harley gave a harsh, mirthless laugh. “There ain’t no escapin’ my past.  You don’t get to ignore the shit I’ve done.  I’m just tryin’ to make myself a future.”

“What makes you think you deserve one?” Barbara asked bluntly.

“I probably don’t,” Harley admitted. “I ain’t the suicide type though, so I gotta keep tryin.’ Look, I don’t get what Bruce sees in me, but I’m not gonna turn him down.  I know this ain’t a high bar, but he’s the best man I ever met.  I just wanna do right by him.”

Barbara huffed a sigh that sounded frustrated and glanced away briefly. “I want to believe you, I honestly do, but I don’t know that I can.  Not after all the time you spent with the Joker.  I keep thinking about what happens if he gets out again or asks for your help.  I don’t know how I could trust you not to turn on us.”

“I don’t blame you,” Harley said softly. “I don’t think I’d believe me either.  Sometimes I think there’s no escapin’ him.”

Barbara looked back at her sharply. “Do you still love him?”

“Some part of me’ll probably always love him.” Harley desperately wished she could lie. “I don’t wanna, I really don’t.  But we both know I ain’t totally right in the head.”

“Why did you turn on him then?” Barbara demanded.

Harley had been dreading this question, but Barbara of all people deserved the answer. “Cuz of you.”

Barbara looked surprised. “What do you mean?”

Harley took a deep breath, marshalling her thoughts. “I was with Ivy then, you know, I didn’t know what Joker was up to.  I was just watchin’ TV in a diner or somthin’ and they had it on the news.  They said you’d been attacked by Joker.  That you were paralyzed.”

She wasn’t even seeing Barbara anymore; she was reliving those awful days after hearing the news. “I hit up a coupla my old contacts in Joker’s crew.  They told me all about it.  What they did to you and your dad.  Shootin’ you, makin’ him look at those pictures of you.  Tryin’ to drive him crazy.  I just couldn’t stand it, I had to do somethin’ about it.  I couldn’t let somethin’ like that happen again if I could help it.”

Barbara was looking at her skeptically. “You expect me to believe you didn’t know about all the other horrible things he’d done before then?”

“I didn’t, I swear.” Harley could hear the pleading note in her voice. “He wasn’t even as bad at the start; he got worse as everythin’ went on.  But he never involved me in killin’ or nothin.’  I was always helpin’ him plan heists, or makin’ traps for you and Bats.  Even when we had hostages he’d say it was just a joke, we wouldn’t _really_ hurt no one.  I thought he was just tryin’ to prove a point, I didn’t think he was that bad til what happened with Robin.”

Abruptly, she burst into tears and fell back onto a chair. “But I know I shoulda!  I know he was doin’ it, I just wasn’t payin’ attention.  I shoulda gone to the cops years ago, I never shoulda let it get so far!  I never shoulda helped him.  I coulda stopped it all, I coulda saved so many people!  God, I’m sorry, I’m so _fucking_ sorry!”

She buried her head in her hands, no longer able to look at the woman whose life she’d inadvertently ruined through inaction. She heard the sound of wheels rolling on the floor, and she assumed Barbara was leaving until a warm hand touched her shoulder.

Harley looked up hesitantly, but Barbara’s expression was no longer accusatory.  Now it was pitying. “I know you can’t forgive me,” Harley said, sniffling. “I wouldn’t expect you to.  But I can’t stand the idea of causin’ you anymore pain.  It don’t matter what happens.  Joker can ask me, he can beg me, he can torture me, but I ain’t ever doin’ anything to hurt you or Bruce or anyone else!  Never again!”

Barbara took a deep breath and nodded. “I’m still not sure I’ll ever be able to look at you without thinking about what the Joker did to me, but I’ll try to trust you.  For yours and Bruce’s sakes.  The Joker’s ruined enough lives.”

It was more than Harley had hoped for, and she knew it was more than she deserved.  She knew _she’d_ never be able to look at Barbara without feeling a sense of overwhelming guilt. “I was hopin’ we could be friends, but you don’t gotta see me if you don’t wanna.  I can make myself scarce if you’re around.  I don’t wanna make things worse for you.”

“I don’t know if friends is possible,” Barbara said honestly. “But we’re going to see a lot of each other.  I work with Lucius on our security, and I’m sure he’ll want to bring you on now.  We should at least get comfortable around each other.  And no offense, I’d rather keep you where I can see you, at least for the moment.”

“Whatever I can do,” Harley said earnestly. “I’ll help however I can; I’ll do your laundry if it’ll make you feel better.”

Barbara smiled reluctantly. “I don’t think we have to go that far.  Maybe it would be helpful if I could see you as something other than Harley Quinn.  Could I stick around and talk to you for a bit?  Get to know you?”

Harley was only too eager to prove herself to Batgirl. “Yeah, of course.  Do you want somethin’ to drink?  I just got some really good tea the other day.  You wanna try it with me?”

She made them both tea, and they sat at her little table, talking about the most mundane things.  They chatted about their childhoods, school, books, all subjects that had no relation to crime, Joker, or anything else that might bring up bad memories. 

Bruce showed up a little while later.  He looked almost alarmed when he saw Barbara was present, but Harley smiled reassuringly.

“Is everything alright?” Bruce asked in concern.

Harley looked at Barbara, letting her answer.

“Everything’s fine,” she said. “We’re just chatting.  One girl to another.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a difficult chapter to write, partially because of the emotions I'm attempting to convey, but also because this is my first major change to the typical Batman continuity. As I've mentioned a few times, White Knight served as a major inspiration for my version of Harley. For those who haven't read it (although if you haven't, what are you even doing, go get it right now!), it depicts Joker as having gotten worse over the years, as opposed to starting out as a depraved psycho killer. I decided to run with this idea, although it doesn't feature prominently in the story. In my version, I like to think that the Joker started out a little more like the early episodes of the Animated Series; a little more playful and campy. I imagine he was mostly trying to make Batman take himself less seriously and acknowledge how goofy the whole Gotham crime fighting thing was. However, as time went on and Batman stayed the same, he started getting more and more violent, until we hit the chaotic evil, murderous nutcase we all know and love.
> 
> This is where things got tough for me in the writing process. See, if Harley was really an accessory to Joker's more violent crimes, I really couldn't see a lot of redemption for her character. This may be too harsh, but I genuinely believe there are things you don't get to come back from. So I like to think that her involvement with Joker centered around planning heists and traps for the Batfam, as opposed to his murder sprees. Joker, recognizing her usefulness in these areas, kept her away from his more violent operations, knowing she wouldn't stand for it. Not that she wouldn't have been able to figure out what he was up to if she had paid better attention, but in my version she never killed anyone. Eventually he became so unhinged that she couldn't stay in denial anymore and left him for Ivy. I'm planning to tell that story at some point too, so I won't spoil too much right now.
> 
> Sorry if that was a lot of information to include in a note, but these are backstory elements I consider important, but aren't necessarily self evident in the writing of this fic. I hope you all continue to enjoy!


	19. A Little Birdie Told Me...

Bruce struggled to keep the vacant smile on his face. “I’m sure we can handle a lot of your company’s needs on that front, Mr. Callen.  Our security branch has never been better.”

The eponymous CEO of Callen’s BioInformatics, a relatively new startup beamed excitedly. “I’m relieved to hear that Bruce.  I won’t lie, I was a little worried when I heard you all were employing Harley Quinn.  Talk about a head case, I mean, what’s up with that?”

The urge to reach across and throttle the man became temporarily overpowering, and Bruce was unable to answer.  Luckily, Fox was there to step in.

“Actually, Mr. Callen, I was thinking that Dr. Quinzel would be the ideal liaison for your company.” Lucius somehow managed the perfect balance of gentle chiding and corporate obsequiousness. “I think you’ll find her suggestions perfectly suited to some of the problems you’ve been facing.”

Callen looked skeptical, but it was impossible not to trust Lucius. “Well if you say so.  Just, tell her to be careful around the chemicals.  We won’t want another bleached maniac running around, do we?”

Bruce forced himself to laugh along with Callen, as opposed to removing all his teeth with his fist.  Lucius gave a polite smile but didn’t join them. “If we’re in agreement then, I’ll have the contracts sent over and we’ll be in touch immediately.”

“Fantastic!  Thank you both!” Callen stood up and shook their hands. “And Bruce, will I see you out on the course anytime soon?”

Bruce attempted to sound regretful. “I don’t think so, Mr. Callen.  Alfred locked up my clubs after that last time.”

“Was that when you hooked one right through the bar’s window?”

“Afraid so.” Bruce grinned sheepishly.

Callen gave a great guffaw. “You are hopeless, my boy.  Still, you should drop by sometime, we’ll get a drink.”

“I’ll try to make it over,” Bruce assured him as they walked to the door. “Say hi to Cindy and the kids for me.”

The moment the door closed on Callen’s retreating form, he dropped the idiot act and ran a weary hand over his eyes.

“Long night, Mr. Wayne?” Lucius inquired.

“They’re all long,” Bruce muttered. “People like him don’t make the days much easier.”

Lucius pursed his lips. “Yes, Mr. Callen can be a bit trying.”

“I still can’t figure out why the hell he opened a biomedical company,” Bruce remarked.  Callen was better known for his real estate ventures.  Science tech was as far from his wheelhouse as it was possible to get. “How long do you give it?”

Lucius thought about it. “With Harley on the case, they shouldn’t have any more security issues.  I imagine that will buy them at least a few months.  That should give us enough time to see if they have anything worth acquiring.”

“Just make sure he’s polite to her, will you,” Bruce said.  He knew he was being overprotective, but he didn’t like the way Callen had talked about her.

“Mr. Callen thinks of himself as a gentleman,” Lucius reassured him. “I don’t think we’ll have any trouble with him.  Still, I’ll sit in on the first few meetings, just to be safe.”

“Thanks, Lucius.”

“Anytime, Mr. Wayne.  Is there anything else you need?”

Bruce shook his head. “Not right now.”

Lucius took his leave, and Bruce returned to his desk, slumping heavily into his seat.

He’d been finding it extremely difficult to play the idiot billionaire of late.  Smiling blandly, listening to old men’s’ terrible jokes, pretending to be interested in whatever meaningless piece of gossip was making the socialite rounds, it was all grating on his nerves even more than usual.  He knew one big reason why of course: Harley.  The longer he was with her, the sicker he became of the masks he was forced to wear.  Each hour spent with her was a reminder of how little time he got to spend as himself.  Some days it was harder to remember why he did it anymore…

He glanced over at the portrait of his parents on his wall, which he’d hung expressly for moments like this.  Once upon a time, the mere thought of Thomas and Martha Wayne would have ignited a rush of righteous anger that would simmer in his chest throughout the day until he could don the cowl and leap into the night.

Now though, it hardly produced more than a dull, melancholic ache.  Also, an increasingly loud voice in the back of his head that his parents wouldn’t have wanted him to spend his life this way.  Admittedly, the voice resembled Alfred’s, but for some reason he couldn’t tune it out like he used to.

As if to reinforce his mood, the other reason walked through his office door that exact moment.

“Hello Father,” Damian said, coming to stand, like a soldier at parade rest, in front of the desk.

“Hello Damian,” Bruce replied, instinctively falling into a similar formality before he could stop himself. “How was your work in the lab?”

“Quite satisfactory.  I identified three possible mechanisms for improving the recharge rate of the REC.” Damian’s expression did not change perceptibly.

“Excellent,” Bruce said. “Well done.  We should have lunch before Alfred picks you up.”

Damian nodded, executing a perfect about face as Bruce got up from the desk.  They rode the elevator in silence, both staring straight ahead.

This was the problem, Bruce reflected to himself.  He’d been so young when he’d set himself on the path to becoming Batman.  The idea that one day he might be something other than simply an instrument of justice had never occurred to him.  Even when the world handed him the opportunity in the form of Dick, then Jason, he hadn’t taken the hint.  He’d simply incorporated them into his war, never thinking that perhaps there was another option.

Not until he’d held Jason’s broken body in his arms.

When Damian came into his life, he’d been determined to do better.  To give him something resembling the ordinary life he’d never had.  However, he had no idea what that life should look like.  And ironically, the boy was probably far more equipped to be Robin than any of his other proteges.  But Bruce was too old, and Damian too young, for him to allow that to happen.  He wouldn’t make that mistake again; he wouldn’t use his own child to satisfy his need to control the world around him.  By all that was good and decent in the world, he _would_ be a good father to this boy.

Now if only that boy would stop acting like an assassin bred to rule the world…

Bruce was so caught up in these thoughts that he barely noticed the door of the elevator opening, and two women joining them.  He did his best to hoist a pleasant expression back onto his face, before realizing, with a horrible swooping sensation in his stomach, that he knew both of his elevator companions well.

“Bruce, it’s so good to see you!” Veronica Vreeland cried, throwing her arms around his neck. “I didn’t think I’d run into you!  And little Damian, how are you, young man?!”

Damian bristled slightly at being called ‘little’ but his expression was polite as he extended a hand. “Very well, Ms. Vreeland.  And you?”

“I just can’t believe how polite you always are!” Veronica said, practically fawning over Damian. “I am doing just fantastic, thank you for asking!”

“Veronica!” Bruce eventually managed to say in surprise, looking over her shoulder to see Harley, who had gone pale with shock. “What brought you over here?”

“I’m visiting Harley,” Veronica said brightly, turning to wrap an arm around Harley’s shoulders. “I wanted to see her fancy new office.  It’s got a gorgeous view, but I was telling her she needs to spruce it up a bit.  There’s this fabulous new artist I think she’d love, he does the most incredible colors!”

While Veronica babbled on, Harley looked from Bruce to Damian and back again, her eyes wide and disbelieving, confirming his worst fears:

Harley didn’t know that Bruce Wayne had a son.

He’d suspected as much since revealing his identity to her.  She hadn’t mentioned anything, and he hadn’t known how to bring it up.  They’d both been so happy, he’d been afraid to ruin the moment.  Now, looking at Harley’s expression, that choice was coming back to bite him in the ass.

  Bruce was torn between desperately wishing he could do something to reassure her and worrying that Damian would say something completely inappropriate.  While he’d taken the news of Bruce and Harley’s budding relationship as well as Bruce could have expected, Damian had a way of surprising him.  Even after two years, he couldn’t predict his son’s actions any better than he could the Joker’s.

“Oh my goodness!” Veronica exclaimed, turning to Harley. “I just realized, you probably haven’t met Bruce’s son, have you?”

Harley shook her head, uncharacteristically mute.

“Harley, this is Damian Wayne,” Veronica said formally, not appearing to notice her friend’s discomfort. “Damian, this is Harleen Quinzel.  She works here with Lucius on security consulting!”

Bruce watched his son, nervousness growing, but the boy simply extended a courteous hand as he’d done with Veronica. “Dr. Quinzel.  A pleasure to meet to you.”

Harley seemed to gather herself and shook Damian’s hand. “Yeah, you too.”

Veronica made a little squeeing noise. “Oh, I’m so excited we ran into you!  Where are you headed anyway, Bruce?”

Bruce struggled to find his voice, but Damian stepped in quickly. “We were on our way to the commissary for a meal.”

“Oh you should join us!” Veronica said excitedly. “Harley was telling me how good the food is here, and I wanted to try it!”

“We wouldn’t want to intrude,” Bruce finally managed to say.

“Don’t be silly, you wouldn’t be intruding.” Veronica turned to Harley, still under her arm. “Would they?”

Harley gulped and shook her head, eyes still darting slightly. “No, of course not.”

Bruce knew he should come up with some sort of excuse to get them out of this and regroup with Harley later, but his normally overactive brain provided him with no convincing stories or alibis.

“Um, sure,” he said eventually, trying vainly to hold onto his happy go lucky public persona. “We’d love to.”

“Oh, yay!” Veronica gushed, almost hopping up and down.

The elevator opened and they filed out.  Bruce hung back, allowing the women to walk ahead of him, but Damian sped up to keep pace with them.

“Am I mistaken, or were you previously the paramour of the Joker maniac?” Damian asked Harley, his voice mild.

Harley’s step faltered momentarily.

“Damian!” Bruce hissed. “That’s not really a polite question!”

“No, it’s alright,” Harley said, her voice mostly steady. “Yeah, that was me.  I don’t really like to talk about it though.”

Damian nodded solemnly, and didn’t ask any more questions, although he continued to look up at Harley interestedly.

They reached the commissary, but Harley paused before entering.

“I just gotta use the bathroom,” she said.  For the most part she looked normal, but Bruce could see that she was breathing rather fast. “Don’t worry about waitin’ for me, I’ll be out in a sec.”

“Sure thing, honey!” Veronica said brightly.

Bruce tried to figure out some way of asking how she was doing without blowing his cover but couldn’t manage it before she disappeared into the bathroom.

The three of them briefly split up in the commissary.  It was a huge space, set up like a massive cafeteria, only if that cafeteria were run by the best chefs money could buy.  There were over a dozen stations, several of which rotated menus regularly.  Bruce got a turkey salad, no dressing or croutons, and found a table that would give him a view of the entrance.  Veronica joined him a moment later, also carrying a salad, followed closely by Damian, who had opted for a vegetarian sandwich.

Bruce struggled to make small talk while trying to keep a surreptitious eye out for Harley.  Luckily, Veronica was focusing on Damian, who she hadn’t seen in some time.  However, Harley’s absence went unnoticed for only so long.

“Was Dr. Quinzel not feeling well?” Damian asked at one point.

Veronica frowned. “I don’t think so.  She didn’t mention anything to me.  Why do you ask?”

“She has been in the lavatory for a considerable time,” Damian observed. “Either she is experiencing gastric distress, or perhaps a menstrual issue of some sort.”

Bruce restrained himself from rubbing his eyes at his son’s typically blunt manner of speech.  Veronica looked similarly off put.

“Maybe I’ll go check on her,” she said, getting up and exiting the commissary, leaving just the two of them.

Damian resumed eating his sandwich, apparently oblivious to the way that Bruce was looking at him.

“I presume you wish to chastise me for my behavior, Father,” he said eventually not looking up from his meal.

Bruce sighed. “It’s a lot harder to do it when you put it that way.  Why did you agree to have lunch with them?”

Damian arched a dignified eyebrow. “It seemed most prudent.  We were already planning to eat; it was the simplest course of action.  Are you not always saying we should draw as little unusual attention as possible?”

“Don’t use my own words against me,” Bruce said shortly. “You wanted to spend time with Harley.  Why?”

Damian didn’t attempt to deny the statement. “You are now actively courting her.  I wished to assess her suitability for you as a romantic partner for myself.”

Bruce looked at his son seriously. “Let’s get one thing straight, Damian.  Her ‘suitability’ is up to me, and no one else.  Got it?”

Damian considered Bruce solemnly for a moment before nodding. “Very well, Father.”

With a sigh, Bruce turned back to his salad, poking disinterestedly at a few pieces of lettuce.

“I surmise you did not tell her about me yet?” Damian asked mildly.

“No,” Bruce muttered. “I was trying to figure out the right way to bring it up.”

“Hm.” Damian looked over at the commissary entrance. “It would appear that you waited longer than was wise.”

Bruce let out a humorless laugh, feeling a fresh surge of irritation with himself. “Yeah.  I noticed that too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damian's first proper appearance in the story. Looking forward to hearing what you think!


	20. ...That You Got A Kid

Harley sat in the bathroom, willing her breathing to even out.

Bruce had a son.

Her heart was beating in her chest like it was trying to escape.  The boy’s ice blue eyes, so much like his father’s, kept flashing through her mind.

Bruce had a son.

She struggled to hold back an irrational sob.  If someone had asked, she wouldn’t have been able to tell them why she was so distressed.  All she knew was that the tiny walls of the bathroom stall felt like they were closing in around her.

Bruce had a son.

It was her own damn fault for being surprised.  Everyone else seemed to know everything about Bruce Wayne’s life; she was the weird one who didn’t obsess over him.  He’d probably just assumed she knew he had a kid and didn’t see the need to bring it up.

A kid!  Bruce had a fucking kid!

She let out a slightly hysterical laugh.  What even was her life?  She finally met a nice guy, and of course he led a double life as a vigilante crime fighter.  As if that wasn’t complicated enough, he had to be a parent too. 

What was he expecting from her?  They’d made it clear they were fully committed to each other, but did that mean Bruce wanted her to be a mom to little Damian?  Who _was_ his mom anyway?  Some pretty socialite Bruce had accidentally knocked up?  No, that was way too normal.  She was probably a busty orange alien or some shit.

And what the hell kind of name was Damian?  The kid was already creepy as fuck, with those intense mannerisms and ridiculously complex way of talking.  That wasn’t enough, they had to name him after the freaking Devil?

The door to the bathroom opened and Harley did her best to calm herself.  The last thing she needed was some random woman asking if she was okay.

“Harley?  You still in here sweetie?”

Yep, that sounded about right.  After all, why have it be some random chick when it could be her concerned, oblivious best friend instead?

“Yeah, I’m here,” Harley said, trying to sound normal.

The sound of heels clicking on the tile floor echoed through the bathroom as Veronica walked over to stand near the stall. “You doing okay?”

Harley sighed.  Apparently she wasn’t getting out of this so easily.  What to say though?  She obviously couldn’t tell Veronica the truth, but she had to say something.  Veronica was persistent, she wouldn’t just let Harley shrug the whole thing off.

“Bruce’s kid talkin’ about the Joker just surprised me is all,” Harley invented. “I wasn’t expectin’ that.  Kinda brought up some stuff.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” Veronica said. “He does things like that sometimes.  Are you alright?”

“I’ll be fine,” Harley replied.  An idea occurred to her. “Distract me a bit.  Tell me about this kid, I never heard about Bruce havin’ one.”

“None of us did,” Veronica said, her voice slipping into that low excited tone she got when she had a particularly juicy piece of gossip. “Even Bruce didn’t know about him until a couple years ago.”

“How’s that work?” Harley asked. “You tellin’ me she wasn’t askin’ child support from Bruce freakin’ Wayne?”

“Apparently not.  Bruce doesn’t like to talk about it, but I guess Damian’s mother never told Bruce about him.  We know she’s European, but not really anything else.  A couple years ago, she just dumped him on Bruce without any warning.  I’m surprised you didn’t know about it, it was all over the news.”

“Remember where I was a couple years ago?” Harley reminded her friend.

“Oh, right.  Sorry.” Veronica’s tone turned apologetic. “Well, anyway, that’s about all anyone knows.  A couple of us think she’s probably royalty, and the family made her send Damian to Bruce to avoid a scandal.”

Oh great, Harley thought.  A European princess.  That wasn’t competition or anything.  She’d already been self-conscious being compared to Catwoman, the pin up hooker of Gotham’s underworld.  Now she had some nameless stacked Scandinavian princess floating through her head too.  Unless she was one of those inbred royalty types with a unibrow.  Of course, if that were the case it meant Bruce had liked her for her personality.  Harley wasn’t sure which was worse.

“Do you think you’re up to having lunch?” Veronica asked tentatively. “I can make an excuse if you’re not.”

Harley took a deep breath.  She was sorely tempted to take her friend up on that offer, but knew it was probably better to face her fears head on.

“No, I’m okay.  I just needed a minute.” Opening the stall, she smiled reassuringly at Veronica. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”

Veronica gave her a hug. “It’s totally fine.”

When they returned to the commissary, Harley decided it was a day for carbs.  She was still generally trying to maintain a healthy diet, but sometimes you just needed a huge bowl of pasta.  And chocolate cake.  She definitely needed chocolate cake.

By the time she joined them at the table, she felt mostly composed.  She gave Bruce a quick smile, knowing her reaction had probably freaked him out.  Damian just watched her with that steady, preternaturally calm gaze of his.

“So, Damian,” Harley said, trying valiantly to start a normal conversation. “How are you likin’ Gotham?  Veronica told me you only been here a couple years.”

“I don’t particularly care for the city,” Damian answered, his tone hardly changing. “It is rather uncultured and filthy.  The people are hardly better.”

Harley and Veronica exchanged a wide-eyed look while Bruce rubbed his eyes wearily.

“However,” Damian went on, “the Zoo is quite excellent.  It is similar to a menagerie I saw once when visiting the King of Bhutan.”

Harley raised her eyebrows in surprise but wasn’t about to let the opportunity pass. “You like animals, huh?  Have you seen the hyenas at the Zoo?”

“Yes, they are excellent specimens.”

She leaned forward, as if sharing a secret. “They actually used to be mine.  They’re called Bud and Lou, and they’re absolute sweethearts!”

For the first time, Damian’s expression shifted, and for the briefest second he looked almost like a regular child. “I would enjoy having the opportunity to meet them.  Would that be possible, Father?”

Bruce looked surprised. “I suppose we can see about doing something.”

Damian nodded in satisfaction and turned back to his sandwich.  Harley continued to engage him in conversation about his favorite animals, all the while trying to pick up clues about where he was from.  He spoke English flawlessly, but his accent was unlike any she’d heard.  There was a distinct British lilt to his vowels, but some of his consonants, particularly the ls and rs had a rolling quality she couldn’t put her finger on.  He’d also apparently been everywhere, and talked freely about visiting different zoos in Europe, Asia, and Africa.  Yet he never gave any details about the circumstances of these visits, or who accompanied him.

When she finished with her pasta and moved on to cake, Damian watched her curiously. “You want some?” she asked.

Damian looked puzzled. “Why?  It has no nutritional value and could easily cause irreparable health problems.”

Harley grinned. “But it tastes real good.” She held out the fork.

Hesitantly, Damian took the proffered utensil and cute off a bite.  He chewed slowly, a thoughtful expression on his face.

“Well?” Harley prompted. “Whaddya think?  Good, right?”

“It is…not unpleasant,” Damian allowed, taking a bit more.

The rest of lunch passed fairly pleasantly, and Harley almost managed to forget the emotional minefield she was currently traversing.  When the meal was over, Damian stood up and announced imperiously. “I’ll be departing now; Alfred has likely arrived.”

The three of them automatically stood up as well, as if the king had just announced the end of the feast.  When they realized what they’d all done, they looked at each other awkwardly.

“Do you need me to come down with you?” Bruce asked.  He seemed extremely uncertain.

Damian’s expression was almost disparaging. “To the lobby?  Hardly, Father.”

But Veronica apparently hadn’t heard. “Ooh, I can walk with you, Damian!  I’ve been wanting to talk with Alfred for ages.”

Damian looked questioningly at his father, who nodded minutely. “Very well, Ms. Vreeland.” He extended his arm, and Harley barely restrained an incredulous snort of laughter.

They walked back to the elevators, where Veronica gave Harley a one-armed hug. “Thanks for showing me around; I had a lot of fun!”

“Anytime,” Harley smiled.

“Are you headed back up, Harley?” Bruce asked. “I’d like to chat with you if you have a minute?”

He was clearly trying to appear professional, as if the answer wasn’t of great consequence.  Unfortunately, Veronica was too well versed in social cues to avoid catching his interest.

“Now, now,” she said, wagging a finger reproachfully. “I know that look, and Harley here is spoken for.  A nice man named Ben, so you behave yourself now.”

Bruce held up his hands “I just had a little business to discuss.  I promise, I won’t try to steal Harley away from, Ben was it?” He directed the last bit at Harley, a slightly amused grin spreading on his face.

Harley felt herself blush deeply. “Yeah, that’s right.”

Bruce was clearly taking a little too much enjoyment from watching her squirm. “Well he sounds like a lucky man.  Girls like our Harley don’t come along every day, do they, Veronica?”

“No, they don’t!” Veronica said, just as her elevator arrived.  She walked in with Damian, who was staring at her quite intently.

“Tell me about this Ben,” Harley heard him say before the doors closed on them.

Harley shot a glance at Bruce. “You sure it’s safe, leavin’ them together?”

She meant it as a joke, but Bruce answered quite seriously, “I have no idea.”

The elevator doors opened again, and a couple people spilled out, preventing her from following up on that, rather ominous, pronouncement.  They rode up in silence, unable to communicate in case someone overheard.  The tension in Harley’s stomach, which had dissipated slightly during lunch, returned in full force with each floor that passed.

After what felt like an eternity, they emerged into the cavernous waiting room.  Muscles was sitting behind his desk, looking blandly terrifying as always.  He nodded politely at Harley as they passed.

“Jeremy, push my next couple appointments,” Bruce said.

“Of course, sir.”

Hm, so Muscle’s name was Jeremy.  On any other day that would be extremely interesting to Harley.  Not so much at the moment.

Once the doors closed behind them, Harley turned to Bruce. “So…”

“So…” Bruce mimicked her.

For some reason his reticence riled her up.  She arched an eyebrow at him. “Got anythin’ you feel like tellin’ me?”

Bruce winced. “Yes, I do.” He walked up and placed his hands gently on her shoulders. “I am so sorry I didn’t tell you about Damian sooner.  I wasn’t sure how to bring it up, so I just put it off.  That wasn’t fair to you, and I’m incredibly sorry.”

Harley glared up at him for a moment before melting into his arms. “You couldn’t just let me be mad at you?  You had to go an’ spoil my fun bein’ all nice like that?”

He laughed lightly, pressing his face into the top of her head. “I wouldn’t mind if you’d like to yell at me a bit.”

She drew back and looked at him steadily. “I’d rather hear about how you ended up with a kid?  I think I oughta know, if we’re gonna be together.”

The momentary mirth slid off Bruce’s face. “It’s a long story.”

She shrugged. “I ain’t got nowhere to be.”

That technically wasn’t true.  She should probably be down in her office, doing the work Bruce and Lucius were paying her to do, but she knew there was no chance of getting anything done with all this drama hanging over her head.

Bruce stared into her face and nodded.  Releasing her, he marched over to the bar set into one wall of the office and pulled down two glasses and a bottle of whiskey whose brand she didn’t recognize, which probably meant it was worth more than her whole apartment building.  He poured a healthy measure of amber colored liquid into both glasses before offering one to her.

She took it with some trepidation.  By personal preference, and so as not to interfere with her medication, she tended not to drink or keep alcohol at home.  She’d apologized to him during one of his early visits for not having anything other than tea to drink, but he’d reassured her that he hardly ever imbibed.  The fact that he was doing so now gave her some indication of the intensity of the experiences he was about to share with her.

They settled into bar stools, and Bruce took a deep pull from his tumbler, staring off into space.  Harley mimicked him, grimacing as the whiskey burned its way down her throat.

“A lot of this is going to sound ridiculous, but I swear it’s all the truth,” Bruce began.

“Hey, I’ve seen some weird shit,” Harley told him. “Come on, hit me with it!”

“Alright.  Have you ever heard of the League of Shadows?” Bruce asked.

“Sure,” Harley replied, thinking of the various rumors she’d heard over the years. “Supposed to be some kinda assassin’s guild.  All vigilantes and stuff like you, but more murdery, right?”

He nodded. “More or less.  Their leader is a man named Ra’s al Ghul.  He founded the League as a way to correct what he sees as humanity’s excesses.  Think similar to Ivy, but on a global scale.  His whole aim is to reduce human existence to a more…balanced state.  With himself at the head, of course.  His organization possesses incredible resources, power, and technology.

“He’s also over six hundred years old.”

Harley blinked. “You wanna run that by me again?”

Bruce smiled grimly. “You heard me right.  In his youth he discovered a naturally occurring chemical that, when harnessed properly, rejuvenates the body.  It can heal wounds, cure illnesses, even restore youth.  He calls the sites where it emerges Lazarus Pits, for obvious reasons.  He’s used those pits to stay alive for six centuries.”

“You sure he’s not just lyin’ about that?” Harley asked skeptically. “It’d be a helluva way of impressin’ people.”

Bruce shook his head. “It’s real.  I’ve seen it at work.” He didn’t elaborate, but his expression said everything.

Harley took another drink, trying to wrap her brain around the implications of this revelation. “Alright, so there’s this big scary organization that wants to bring down all of civilization and the guy runnin’ it’s six hundred years and immortal.  You’ve officially freaked me out.”

“Ra’s isn’t exactly immortal,” Bruce qualified. “The Lazarus chemicals aren’t an endless resource; once a pit’s been used, it doesn’t replenish for at least a couple thousand years, and there weren’t a huge number to begin with.”

“So he’s runnin’ out?” Harley surmised.

“Exactly.  What’s more, the effects are diminishing.  He has to use them more frequently to maintain his youth.  They’re also starting to affect his mind.  Soon, very soon possibly, they won’t be able to sustain him anymore.”

“Well that’s a bit of a relief,” Harley muttered with another swig. “What’s this gotta do with Damian?”

“Everything,” Bruce said grimly. “Ra’s knows he’s running out of time, and he probably doesn’t have enough to complete his work.  A while ago, he started looking for a successor.”

“Let me guess,” Harley said screwing up her face as if she was thinking really hard. “He took a liking to a certain vigilante crime fighter who dresses up like a Bat?”

Bruce smiled reluctantly. “Apparently I remind him of himself when he was younger.  He used to be an idealist.  Time jaded him, but he respects what I do.”

Harley shook her head ruefully. “Man, you really got a way of attractin’ crazy people, Bruce.  Wonder what that says about me…?”

“Trust me, you’re easily one of the sanest people I know.”

“Not sure if that reassures me,” Harley remarked. “So, how’d he approach you?”

“Through his daughter, Talia” Bruce resumed his story. “She presented herself as a fellow crime fighter to gain my trust.”

“Hold up a sec,” Harley interrupted. “How come he didn’t just let _her_ be in charge?  Why’d he come after you?”

“Ra’s is six hundred years old,” Bruce explained. “He’s a little old fashioned.  He wanted a male heir.”

Harley rolled her eyes. “Sexist old fuck.  And you fell for it?”

Bruce winced. “This was early on, before I had any allies besides Gordon, and he was just a captain at the time.  I was…a little too eager to accept her help.  And she had intel on huge operations; smuggling, weapons dealers, terrorists.  I assumed she was a former intelligence operative who got jaded and genuinely wanted to help.”

“But she was just gettin’ rid of the competition?” Harley surmised.

Bruce nodded glumly, staring into his whiskey. “I didn’t realize it till much later.  I worked with her for months.  We got…close.  Eventually she revealed who she _really_ was and introduced me to her father.  Ra’s intended for me to marry Talia and take his place.  Carry out his work after he was gone.  I refused.”

“How come?” Harley asked. “Not like I’m complainin’ but seems like you coulda done a lot with an organization like that.  You didn’t gotta keep goin’ with the whole, destroy humanity thing.  You coulda waited til the old man died and taken ‘em straight.”

“They wanted too much,” Bruce said firmly. “Demonstrations of my commitment to the cause.  Things I wasn’t willing to do.  They took my refusal poorly and vanished.  I tried finding them, but they were gone as if they’d never existed.  I’m not even sure they knew Talia was pregnant at the time.”

Harley, who had tracked where the story was heading, winced sympathetically. “Thus, little Damian.”

“Yeah.” Bruce took another drink. “They obviously never told me about him.  It was perfect; if they couldn’t have me, my son was the next best thing.  He was raised in secret, trained as a ruler and warrior assassin.  From what I’ve gathered, they planned to arrange my death once he was an adult and have him conveniently emerge to take over Wayne Enterprises.  Between that and their other business interests, they would have controlled an unstoppable alliance of economic powerhouses.  The world would have been theirs for the taking.”

Harley leaned forward, eager for the rest of the story. “So what happened?  How come he’s livin’ with you and not off bein’ a scary ninja king somewhere?”

“War,” Bruce replied simply. “Talia’s sister, Nyssa, got tired of Ra’s being a, how did you put it?  A sexist old fuck?  She didn’t get why Talia or her couldn’t run the League.  So she gathered followers and tried to dethrone Ra’s.  Talia sided with her father, and Nyssa killed her in battle.”

“Ouch,” Harley hissed. “Did she get the old man too?”

“Not yet.  As far as I know, the war’s still going on.  But Ra’s wasn’t willing to risk his precious heir.  A couple years ago, after Talia died, he approached me to take custody of Damian.  He thought I would be better equipped to protect him.”

“Better equipped than the six hundred year old assassin ruler with limitless resources?” Harley asked in surprise.

“Ra’s…thinks highly of me,” Bruce said simply. “And Damian was interested to meet his father.  He’d been raised hearing stories about me, and he wanted to see how I measured up.  I don’t think I’m exactly what he expected.”

He sat up and clasped his hands briskly. “So, that’s the whole story.  There’s other little details if you want, but that’s the gist.”

“Damn, you’ve got a weird life.” Harley took another drink to give her time to gather her thoughts. “I’m guessin’ that’s why he’s so…” She trailed off, trying to find the right words.

“Weird?” Bruce supplied with a slight grin. “Yeah, basically.  He was raised by a man born in the 1300s to inherit a vast network of assassins, saboteurs, and servants so that he could eventually bring about the collapse of modern society and rule over what was left.  To be honest, I’m amazed he’s as normal as he is sometimes.”

“I mean, he likes animals at the Zoo,” Harley supplied, trying to help. “That’s pretty normal for a kid his age, right?”

Bruce looked at her wearily. “Except he doesn’t understand why we can’t just _take_ the animals he likes.  He made it halfway home with a viper in his pocket before I realized he had it.  He keeps telling me about the pet cheetah Ra’s gave him.  I had to convince him the only reason we follow laws about animal ownership is to avoid drawing attention to ourselves.”

Harley giggled in spite of herself. “So I shouldn’t’ve told him about Bud and Lou?”

“No, that’s probably okay,” Bruce said, smiling reluctantly along with her. “He tends to like cats better.”

“I bet he’d’ve loved to have Catwoman as a mommy,” Harley teased.

Bruce raised a warning finger. “Don’t even get him started.  I only _just_ got him to stop asking for an introduction.  He tried to steal the Batmobile to go find her himself when I refused.  He made it through the security too.  If I hadn’t happened to come home early that night…” He shuddered, as if the thought gave him nightmares, before looking at Harley hesitantly. “So, are you okay with this?”

“With what, you havin’ a kid?  Not like there’s much I could do about it if I wasn’t,” Harley observed.

“I wouldn’t blame you if it was too much for you though.  I know you weren’t signing up to be a parent.  Which you wouldn’t be at all,” Bruce hurried to add. “I wouldn’t expect you to do anything with Damian.  He’s my responsibility, not yours.”

Harley thought about it seriously, sipping absently on her drink. “Well, you’re not wrong, I definitely wasn’t signin’ up to be a mom.  But!” she said, interrupting Bruce who looked abruptly forlorn. “But I’m also not gonna let that stop me.  If you’re okay bein’ patient with me, I’m up for gettin’ to know your weird, scary little kid.”

Bruce’s expression jumped from resigned to hopeful so fast it made her want to laugh again. “So, you mean you still want…?”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, dummy.  I mean I still wanna be with you.”

His face broke out into a smile and he leaned forward to kiss her.  She leaned into the kiss heavily, hopping off her chair to press herself against him.

When they pulled apart, she smiled up at him mischievously. “You know, you’re really complicated.  All this drama and we haven’t even been on a date yet.”

“About that,” Bruce said, “I was wondering if you felt like coming by the manor this Friday for dinner?  You could meet Alfred.”

Harley felt suddenly nervous. “You sure?  I mean, I’d like to, but will he be alright havin’ me over?  I know it’s kinda your secret base an’ all too.”

“He’ll be fine.  I think he’d like to meet you too.”

She really wanted to accept the offer, but she still held back. “Won’t you have to go on patrol or something?  I mean, I probably wouldn’t make it over until night.”

“It’s my night off,” he explained. “Robin and I alternate Fridays and Saturdays.”

That surprised her almost as much as finding out he had a kid. “You take a night off?  Seriously?”

He looked suddenly self-conscious. “I didn’t used to.  Alfred started making me about five years ago.  He could tell I was slowing down.  Couldn’t push myself like I used to.”

“I know I could look this up, but how old are you?” Harley asked curiously.

“I just turned forty,” he told her.  He didn’t ask how old she was; they both knew he already knew.

“Guess you can only do this kinda thing for so long,” she remarked.

“That’s very true,” he said softly, glancing briefly past her.

They were both shaken out of their respective musings by the sound of the intercom chirping.  Detaching himself, Bruce marched over to his desk and hit the button.

“Yes?”

Jeremy’s voice sounded from the console. “Sorry to interrupt you, Mr. Wayne, but Councilman Roberts is here for his appointment.  He insisted that he couldn’t reschedule.”

Harley watched with interest as Bruce’s shoulders slumped. “Thanks Jeremy, let him know I’ll just be a minute more.”

She came up as he turned off the intercom. “Roberts?  Not Jolly Johnny Roberts?”

He nodded. “He’s trying to get my support for some kind of zoning proposal.”

“You know he’s crooked as a crowbar, right?” Harley asked, a little hesitantly.

“Yeah.  I’m not supposed to though.  He wants me to back a development project in the Narrows.  Obviously it’s just a front for mob operations, but Bruce Wayne shouldn’t know that.” Bruce rubbed a hand over his eyes. “I’m having a hard time figuring out how to fend him off.”

An idea popped into Harley’s head, and she gave a wicked smile. “I think I got something.”

Marching over to the doors, she swung them both open, revealing a handsome middle-aged man with slicked back hair.  His jovial expression faltered at the sight of Harley.

“Johnny!” she exclaimed gleefully, grabbing him around the waist in a huge bear hug. “I ain’t seen you in forever!  That party at Penguin’s, wasn’t it?  Where me an’ Ivy broke a bottle over Riddler’s head!  How’ve you been?”

Johnny Roberts had turned completely white, and quickly extricated himself from Harley’s grip. “I’m not, uh, sure what you mean, ma’am, I think you have me mixed up with someone else.  Um, Mr. Wayne, I just remembered, I have a pressing issue I completely forgot about.” He turned and hurried to the elevator, punching at the down button.

“Would you like reschedule, Mr. Roberts?” Jeremy called over politely.

“I’ll uh, I’ll have my secretary call you!” he shouted over his back shoulder as he rushed into the elevator.  He hid around the side, out of sight, until the doors closed.

Harley turned back to Bruce, smiling widely. “There, problem solved!  Friday then?”

Bruce looked at her, open mouthed.  Finally, he managed to say. “Yeah, Friday.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the exposition dump, but it was important to distinguish my version of Damian's origin from the standard canon. I didn't really want to have to deal with Talia in this story, so I just offed her to make it simpler.


	21. Dinner Date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I edited this way too late at night, so please forgive spelling errors :)

The details were surprisingly easy to arrange.  They both decided that they were not quite ready to be seen publicly yet.  Bruce was still struggling with how his public persona would shift to accommodate a romance with Harleen Quinzel, and Harley wasn’t looking forward to the inevitable attention the match would bring.  She knew from supermarket tabloids that considerable attention was paid to Bruce Wayne’s love life, and the moment their romance came to light the press would descend on her.  She was fully committed to their relationship, but she knew that would stressful.

To minimize such inconveniences, they decided that they would make sure to leave Wayne Tower separately.  Bruce had an event with the mayor, after which he’d head straight home.  His trusted companion, Alfred would pick up Harley and drive her to the manor, as she still didn’t have a car of her own.

She was a little nervous about a long car drive with the Wayne butler, but it was the best option.  Alfred’s movements were not monitored the way Bruce’s were, and she couldn’t take a cab in case the driver recognized her and went straight to the Gotham Observer with the news that Harley Quinn was clandestinely visiting Bruce Wayne’s manor.  Still, she worried about what they’d talk about on the ride.  Would he even _want_ to talk to her?  The idea of heavy silence sounded almost worse than if he spent the whole time threatening her.

As the designated hour approached, she waited nervously by her window.  She was holding off on going outside; she’d dressed up a bit for the occasion, and the idea of getting catcalled while waiting on the sidewalk wasn’t very appealing.  Luckily, the car was pretty easy to spot once it arrived.  Shiny and black, it probably cost more than the entire building.  Harley grabbed her bag the moment she saw it and rushed down, worried someone would steal it if she didn’t hurry.

Several Narrows residents were indeed eyeing the car with some interest, but the distinguished looking elderly gentleman standing next to its passenger side showed no signs of concern.  He was the spitting image of a stereotypical butler, with his immaculate black suit, neatly trimmed mustache, and regal expression.  Of course, butlers didn’t hold themselves like he did, with the sort of loose confidence of a seasoned fighter.  Nor were their knuckles scarred and calloused like his.

These little details surprised her.  The way that Bruce talked about Alfred, and he’d talked about him a lot since revealing his identity, she’d been expecting someone much more fragile looking.  The way Bruce described his doting made him seem far more harmless than the man standing in front of her.

Alfred looked at her inquiringly. “Ms. Quinzel, I presume?”

“Yeah, that’s me,” she replied with a nervous glance around the street. “Alfred, right?”

“Indeed.  If I may?” He held the back door of the car open for her.

She fidgeted a moment, not wanting to seem rude. “Actually, d’you mind if I sit up front with you.  I get kinda motion sick in the backseat.”

He looked momentarily surprised but quickly repositioned himself at the front. “Of course, ma’am.”

She handed her bag to him, feeling a bit self-conscious.  Bruce had suggested that she bring a change of clothes, in case she felt like staying the night.  The offer made her ecstatic, but she was suddenly worried how it might look to Bruce’s butler.  If he thought anything strange about it, however, it didn’t show.

Alfred got into the seat next to her and pulled on a pair of driving gloves.  Soon they were speeding along the streets of Gotham.  She was slightly surprised at how easily he navigated the crowds of traffic.  He seemed to know exactly which streets to take to avoid the worst spots, and they hardly stopped on their way to the Palisades.  Then again, it made sense that Batman’s butler would be well versed in getting places quickly.

“Please feel free to connect your phone to the radio if you would like to play some music,” Alfred said politely after a minute of silence.

There was absolutely no way that Harley was going to risk playing her combination of death metal, bubble gum pop, and Beethoven in this company. “I’m fine with whatever,” she said. “You pick.”

Obligingly, Alfred reached over and flipped on the radio.  To her surprise, the station he chose was soft rock, not at all what she imagined he’d prefer.  Maybe he thought it was her kind of music.  She didn’t want to say anything though, just to be safe.

“How are you liking your work at the company, Ms. Quinzel?” Alfred asked solicitously.

“You can call me Harley,” she replied. “And I’m likin’ it a lot.  Old Lucius keeps me on my toes.”

“He speaks quite highly of you,” Alfred commented.

“Not sure why.  He’s a genius.”

“I believe he thinks the same of you.”

Harley blushed slightly. “He’s just bein’ nice.  I got a little experience in this department, that’s all.”

“I’m aware,” Alfred remarked. “I happened to be witness to one of your events a number of years ago.”

Harley winced. “I was afraid of that.  Which one?”

“A Christmas party at the Gotham Royale, if I recall correctly,” he said mildly.

That brought her a slight bit of relief.  That was early in her time with Joker, back when his crimes tended to be a little less violent. “Sorry about that,” she mumbled, still feeling guilty.

“It’s quite alright,” he responded. “No one was hurt that evening.”

Which left the unspoken implication that people had been hurt at other such incidents over the years.  He might not have meant it that way, but she could read between the lines. 

Harley took a deep breath.  Like with Barbara, she imagined Alfred had more than a few concerns about her dating Bruce.  Much as she didn’t want to, it was better to deal with it head on, rather than let it fester.

“Okay, we probably outta have the talk,” Harley said.

Alfred raised an eyebrow, not looking away from the road. “The talk?”

“Yeah, the one where we deal with the fact that I used to be a super villain and now I’m seein’ your son.  That one.”

“I’m sure you’re aware that Master Wayne is not my son,” he remarked.

“And I’m sure you’re aware that, yeah, he is,” Harley retorted. “Took me about five seconds after he started talkin’ about you to figure that out.  He might not call you “Dad”, but you’re definitely his pops.  I figure you got some things you wanna say to me.”

Alfred was silent for a while and she thought he might not reply. “Master Bruce and Mr. Fox warned me that you’re far too insightful.  I don’t know that I believed them.”

Haley blushed again. “I ain’t that insightful.  I just pay attention.  Am I right, though?  You aren’t real thrilled about this?”

Alfred sighed. “I have been thrilled with very few things in Bruce’s life.  It is hardly any parent’s hope that their child would spend their time as he does.  And I would be lying if I said I didn’t have concerns about the two of you.  However, he has been far happier since he became involved with you than I have seen him in years.”

It was Harley’s turn to raise a skeptical eyebrow. “Is that what he looks like happy?  Still seems kinda dour to me.”

“It’s a subtle thing,” Alfred acknowledged. “I doubt anyone else besides myself has even noticed.  _I_ certainly won’t be the one to stand in the way of that.  Goodness knows, precious little has made him happy for a very long time.”

“Well I definitely don’t wanna make him sad,” she assured him. “I’ll tell you what I told everyone else, I ain’t gonna do anything to hurt him.  Ever.”

“That’s quite comforting to hear, Ms. Quinzel.” Alfred spared a moment from looking at the road to give her a smile.

“I’m glad.  And like I said, call me Harley.”

“Of course.”

Harley leaned back in her seat, feeling a bit more at ease. “I noticed you didn’t mention anything about little Damian.”

“Ah. Yes, indeed.” For the first time, Alfred looked a little uncomfortable. “I shall leave it to Bruce to decide what’s best for Master Damian.”

“You scared of him too?” she teased.

“Only fools aren’t afraid of apex predators,” Alfred replied, causing Harley to chuckle.

They arrived at the manor shortly thereafter.  She’d seen pictures of the place on the news of course, but they hadn’t been able to convey the sheer scope of the mansion.  It was the kind of place that robbers would give both their kidneys to have just fifteen minutes inside unsupervised.  She gawked openly as they pulled up into the ornate driveway.

“Here we are,” Alfred said, coming around to open her door. “Master Bruce should be waiting just inside.  The doors are open.”

Harley made to go around back and grab her bag, but Alfred stopped her. “No need to worry about that, I’ll bring it up shortly.”

“I can get it though, you don’t gotta carry my stuff,” she objected.

He frowned at her slightly, as if she’d said something rude. “Nonsense.  You are our guest.  It’s only polite.”

She wondered if he wanted to look through and make sure that there was nothing dangerous packed among her things, which there wasn’t, unless he considered skimpy lingerie dangerous.  And if he really wanted to know what she’d be wearing around his adoptive son later, that was his misfortune.

As he pulled the car away, presumably to some rich people’s garage, she marched nervously up the stairs.  She paused at the top and raised a tentative hand to knock.

The door opened almost at once, and Bruce’s confused face peered out at her. “You didn’t have to knock.”

“I got nervous,” she said sheepishly. “Pretty big place you got here.”

He looked up at the manor, as if seeing it for the first time. “Yeah, I suppose so.  Do you want to come in?”

“Sure,” she said, taking her first, tentative steps into Bruce’s home.  The foyer was just as overstated as she’d expected, with a giant staircase right in the middle, dominating the whole space.  She stood in the middle of it all, turning slowly and looking at the mixture of priceless art, gold inlay, and crystal chandeliers.

“You know, places like this are why peasants start revolutions,” she remarked.

Bruce chuckled. “If it helps, I’m not a fan of it.  But it’s expected.”

She was still staring at the room. “Yeah, I get that.  You ever think you worry too much about what other people expect Bruce Wayne to do?”

“I keep telling him the same, but he refuses to listen.  He is far too concerned with the opinion of those beneath him.”

Harley looked down at the young boy standing at the foot of the staircase, hands clasped behind his back. “Hi there, Damian, nice to see you again,” she said, somewhat nervously.

“And you as well,” Damian responded regally, approaching her. “I hope you feel welcome in our home.”

Pulling his hands from behind his back, he held something out to her.  She took it tentatively, but it was just an elaborate wood carving.  Turning it over, she saw it was of a hyena.  The detail was absolutely gorgeous.

“Thank you,” she stuttered. “I, uh, I forgot to bring you anything.”

Damian looked at her in puzzlement. “That would hardly be appropriate, you are our guest.  Did Genghis Khan’s concubines bring him gifts?”

Harley had absolutely no idea how to respond to that.  Did Damian think she was Bruce’s concubine?

Bruce, meanwhile, was frowning at his son. “Damian, where did you get that?” His tone was deeply weary.

Damian however didn’t bat an eyelash. “I obtained it from a store.”

“Legally?” Bruce pressed.

“Of course, Father.  I informed them they might call upon you for payment.”

Bruce sighed heavily. “Can you go tell Alfred which store it was.”

“Very well.” Damian bowed incrementally to Harley before marching off.

“Sorry,” Harley said once he was gone. “You can return it if you want.”

To her relief he shook his head. “No, it’ll be fine.  We’ll just have to explain how payment works again.”

She couldn’t help giggling. “This is a recurring thing?”

“Unfortunately.” Bruce shook himself slightly. “Sorry, I’m getting distracted.  You look beautiful, by the way.”

“Thanks.” She honestly felt a bit overdressed now, having chosen the little black cocktail dress that had impressed Veronica.  Bruce in contrast was fairly casual.  She couldn’t bring herself to regret it though, not with the way that his eyes lingered on every part of her besides her face.

“Hey there, you gotta buy me dinner before you get to undress me.” He looked up at her sheepishly, but she smiled and arched her back a bit to give him a better view.

“Do you want a tour?” he suggested.

She looked around dubiously. “We got time for that before the end of the weekend?”

He smiled. “I’m sure we can see a few rooms before then.  Any in particular?”

“I’m assumin’ you got a library, right?”

He did indeed have a library.  One of the ones that looked pretty in the movies, with shelves built into the walls, carved ladders reaching to the higher shelves, and floor to ceiling windows opposite the door to provide natural lighting.  The problem was, those places weren’t nearly as cool up close.  Everything from the chairs, to the tables, to even the books, were chosen to impress, not to enjoy.  It was the kind of room that you sat in for two minutes with a copy of Dickens, so that when your guests were brought in, they’d “ooh” and “ahh” about how smart and sophisticated you were.

“Okay, be honest,” Harley said, as she traced the titles of row after row of authors she’d never even heard of before. “Has anyone ever actually _read_ any of these books?”

“I think my father tried Plato a couple times.  Alfred said he never made it more than ten pages.”

“Kinda surprised he got that far.” Harley stopped abruptly in her tracks when she saw a collection of Jung’s works, in both English and German. “Wow, now I woulda liked this about fifteen years ago.”

Bruce came over to see which books she was looking at. “Those are original printings, actually.  You can have them, if you want.”

She gave him an incredulous look. “You kiddin’ me?  Last thing I need right now is Jung.  Might as well throw me back in a cell with the Joker.”

“I actually liked your dissertation,” he said. “I thought it was a novel approach.”

Harley rolled her eyes. “Yeah, of course you did.  Come on, let’s get outta here before I find Freud and go completely bonkers.”

He showed her a trophy room of sorts after that, filled with sets of ancient armor and weapons, all authentic of course.  Not having a penis, Harley had difficulty understanding the point of this room, and Bruce admitted it was mostly to entertain drunk hunters and former soldiers.  Then it was two bedrooms that were completely identical, at which point the whole place started looking ridiculous to her.

“This place feels like a hotel,” she said to Bruce. “It doesn’t feel like yours.  Is there a room _you_ decorated yourself?”

He arched an eyebrow and seemed to consider the question for a moment.  Making whatever decision he’d been struggling with, he led her to a downstairs study that looked the same as the others they’d passed, except with a baby grand piano right in the middle.  He struck a complex series of extremely dissonant notes on the piano and waited.  She opened her mouth to ask him what he was doing when one of the cabinets along the wall swung silently forward.  She was stuck without words, gaping at a now revealed hidden door.

Grinning slightly at her shock, Bruce took her hand and drew her with him into the secret passageway.  Floor lights illuminated a dark spiral staircase that led them gradually downward.  She couldn’t tell how far they went, but it must have been a considerable distance underneath the manor.  Just when she thought that it was some kind of joke stair that led nowhere, they emerged into a massive underground cave.

“Welcome to the Batcave,” Bruce said, with an uncharacteristic flourish.

Lights powered up along computers, walkways, and platforms that made up a labyrinth of man-made surfaces built into the rock, all at different levels.  Harley had trouble taking it all in at first.  There was a massive set of screens near her, with an enormous hard drive protected in what looked like Lucite.  One of the platforms held an elaborate looking obstacle course, while another featured high-end practice dummies.  Belatedly, she noticed the Batmobile sitting a short distance away, and the Batpod just a little farther.  All around them but out of sight, she could hear the sounds of bats flying and chirping.

The moment they’d entered, a female voice she eventually recognized as Barbara’s issued from unseen speakers. “Warning: unidentified individual present.  Recommend security lockdown.”

Bruce spoke. “Computer: recognize Dr. Harleen Quinzel.  Beta level security clearance authorized.”

“Acknowledged.  Please provide biometric makers for verification.”

Bruce led her over to a nearby console, where he had her place a hand on an electronic fingerprint scanner and look into a retinal ID lens.

“Acknowledged,” the computer said again. “Welcome Dr. Quinzel.”

Harley looked at Bruce in bewilderment. “Uh, what just happened?”

“I gave you access to our security systems,” he explained. “In case you ever need to get in here on your own.  I’ll teach you the piano sequence, but there’s an elevator that’s a bit easier."

Harley was still having trouble processing everything.  She’d guessed that he housed his operation somewhere in or near the manor, but she hadn’t expected something of this size and scale.  Nor had she expected him to give her open access to it on their first official date. “You uh, you sure you trust me knowin’ where this is?”

He looked at her steadily. “Yes, I do.”

All of a sudden she felt tears come to her eyes, and she leaned up to kiss him, resolving once more to earn all the faith he’d put in her.

“Alright,” she said briskly, wiping her eyes, “show me around, what kinds of goodies you got here?”

He walked her around the cave, showing far more enthusiasm than he had during the tour of the manor.

“I found this place when I was a kid,” he explained as they strolled along a catwalk. “I fell into an old well on the grounds and they couldn’t get to me for a few hours.  The tunnel’s just over there.” He pointed to a distant spot on the wall. “Later, when I came back to Gotham, I was trying to find an angle, something that would give me an edge.  I had the skills, the technology I needed to fight crime, but I was missing something.  The first few times I went out, I was just another punk in a ski mask.

“Then I remembered this place.” He waved an arm to encompass the cave. “I remembered how scared I was lying down here, surrounded by bats.  I decided to harness that fear for something useful.”

“You got no idea how much we used to wonder about the whole bat thing,” Harley remarked. “Don’t get me wrong, it was crazy effective, but it made no sense.  I mean, Penguin got stuck with a bird name, but you picked yours.” She chuckled to herself. “Can’t imagine what he’d say if he could see this place.”

“Alfred took some convincing,” Bruce admitted. “The whole idea sounds a bit silly.”

“Not if you’ve been on the other end of it,” Harley said fervently. “We used to sleep with the lights on, just in case.”

He gave her an amused look. “It wouldn’t be hard to cut power to a building.”

“Hey I didn’t say it made sense,” she said defensively. “I’m sayin’ you did a good job spookin’ us.”

“Am I still spooky?”

She pretended to think about it. “Nah.  I met your butler.  Can’t be scared of a guy with a butler.” She put an arm around his waist and smiled up at him. “But don’t worry, I won’t tell no one you don’t fold your own underwear.”

“I appreciate it.”

They continued wandering the Batcave, stopping so Harley could have a good look at the Batmobile.  She’d never had time to properly admire the vehicle; she’d always been running from it, attempting to destroy it with a hammer, or sitting despondent in the backseat on the way back to Arkham.

“How come I don’t see you in this thing anymore?” she asked, frowning. “You’re always ridin’ that motorcycle now.”

“The Batpod’s more maneuverable,” he answered. “Easier to navigate the streets with less damage.  Gordon was getting too many complaints about cars and buildings getting blown up.”

Harley snorted with laughter. “You ever thought about just drivin’ slower?”

He ignored her suggestion.

Her eyes lit up when he took her to the platform with the obstacle course.  He had the kinds of equipment that her old gymnastics teacher would have killed for.

“I originally built it for Dick,” he explained. “To keep his skills up.”

“Can I give it a try?” she asked eagerly.

He frowned, looking reluctant. “Maybe not right this second.”

She pouted. “Aw, why not?  Gotta put it on the kiddie setting?”

“It’s not that.” He glanced at her dress. “We have a lot of cameras in here, and that dress probably wouldn’t offer much coverage.”

Harley looked down, suddenly remembering that she wasn’t wearing a gym uniform, but a rather skimpy dress. “I don’t suppose you review the security footage?” she asked hopefully, willing to give a little show if it was just him that saw it.

Bruce shook his head regretfully. “We take turns.  Barbara’s scheduled for today.”

She pouted. “Oh fine.” Harley figured she should show Barbara that she was behaving.

As they were returning to the main platform, Alfred emerged from a cleverly disguised wall panel.  The elevator Bruce had mentioned, presumably.

“Master Bruce, Ms. Quinzel,” he announced. “Dinner is ready.  Do you have a preference on the dining room?”

“Either one’s fine, Alfred.” Bruce’s tone was pleasant, but Harley noticed his lips purse ever so slightly.

“Where do you usually eat?” she asked curiously.

His gaze flicked almost guiltily at Alfred before admitting, “Down here.  Not all the time, but typically.”

“Master Bruce exaggerates slightly,” Alfred interjected. “I cannot in fact remember the last time he willingly ate a meal aboveground.”

Harley giggled. “Well I don’t wanna mess with the routine.  I’m fine havin’ dinner down here.”

Bruce looked surprised, and Alfred vaguely scandalized. “Really, Ms. Quinzel, I cannot imagine you truly wish to dine in this ambience.” He waved a hand around the cave.

“I told you, Alfred, call me Harley,” she reminded him again. “And this don’t seem that bad.  I’ve definitely eaten in worse places.”

She watched Alfred’s desire to be accommodating war with his sense of decorum. “Very well,” he said, admitting defeat. “I shall bring the first course down.  _After_ I locate a suitable tablecloth.  We’re not savages, after all.”

Alfred disappeared back up the elevator, and Bruce looked at her. “We don’t have to stay down her, if you don’t want to.  Alfred’s right, I should probably make more of an effort.”

Harley shrugged. “I kinda like it down here.  Feels more like you.  Long as a bat don’t crap on my food.  That happens an’ I’m screamin’ all the way home.”

He smiled. “You don’t have to worry about that.  We figured out a way to keep things clean.”

He directed her attention to the fine, almost invisible netting that ran from the edge of each platform up to the ceiling, partitioning off their areas from that of the bats, and preventing them from making a mess of the cave.

Alfred returned soon with a small cart like those used at fancy hotels.  He shook out a white tablecloth over the little square table set near the computer.  Harley tried to help him, but he waved her away immediately, and she was forced to stand there awkwardly while he set up fine china and cutlery.

“You and Damian not joining us?” she asked when she saw that there were only two place settings.

“I would hardly presume to intrude,” Alfred replied. “As for Master Damian, well…perhaps it’s best I don’t repeat what he said.”

When Alfred was finished, Bruce pulled out a chair for her, making her feel even more self-conscious.  She wasn’t used to being doted upon.  Once they were both seated, Alfred set two bowls before them.

“Roasted carrot bisque,” he announced formally. “Please enjoy.”

He rolled the cart back into the elevator, leaving them alone in the cave.  Harley stared at the bowl; she’d never realized it was possible to make something as simple as soup look so gorgeous.  It was decorated with breadcrumbs and herbs in such a way as to look more like art than food.

“Sorry about him,” Bruce said with an embarrassed smile. “He doesn’t get much opportunity to be formal these days.  I think he got a little carried away.”

Harley had just taken a small taste of the soup and her eyes widened. “Hey, if this is what happens when he gets carried away, can he do it again tomorrow?  This is amazing!”

Bruce’s smile turned more genuine, and he tucked in as well.

“So did the others make themselves scarce tonight too?” she asked around mouthfuls. “Or is it just you, Alfred, and Damian?”

He shook his head. “It’s just us.  Dick visits for the holidays, but Barbara and Tim have their own places.”

“How’d Tim end up bein’ the new Robin?  Didja hold auditions?”

She said it playfully, but Bruce frowned. “No, I actually hadn’t intended to bring on another Robin.  Not after…” His voice trailed off, and Harley felt the mood immediately drop.  She mentally slapped herself; she hadn’t been thinking clearly.  Bruce didn’t say anything accusatory though.

“Anyway,” he continued briskly, “Tim actually found us.  He’d figured out who we all were, myself, Dick, even Barbara.  He hacked into our communications.  Told us Gotham needed Robin as much as it did Batman.”

Harley whistled. “Hell of an audition.  And you said yes?”

“I…took some convincing.  Dick and Barbara had to persuade me.”

“I keep hearin’ about him bustin’ up drug rings and savin’ the mayor and stuff.” Harley said encouragingly. “Seems like he’s doin’ a good job.”

“He is,” Bruce agreed. “Better than I could have hoped.”

He still looked distracted, and Harley steered conversation onto safer topics.  They spent a while discussing how they would bring their relationship out into the open.  Bruce was more than a little amused that she’d chosen the moniker “Ben” for him when talking to Veronica.

“I couldn’t think of anything else!” she protested. “I wasn’t expectin’ her to ask for a name!”

“You could have gone with Bart,” he suggested. “Or Balthazar?  How about Bastian?”

“Yeah go on, have your fun.  I’m guessin’ Veronica’s gonna tease me about only datin’ guys whose names start with B when she finds out about us.”

Alfred returned shortly after they’d finished the first course to deliver the next; lobster risotto.

“Oh my God!” she said after the first bite. “You eat like this every day?!”

Bruce chuckled. “I told you, he gets frustrated with me.”

“Fine, have him send it all my way!  How many courses does he typically do?”

“Alfred thinks four is the perfect number.”

Unfortunately, they only made it partway through the third before the outside world came intruding in.  As they were digging into seared rib-eye on a bed of arugula, the computer started making a chirping sound.

Bruce looked over at the console, frowning. “Give me just a second.  It’s probably nothing.”

Harley went back to her meal as he got up and walked to the computer.  She figured it was just Barbara or Tim checking in with him and making sure she hadn’t taken the manor hostage yet.  However, when Alfred emerged from the elevator, too soon for the next course and holding his phone, she started to think something might be wrong.  He joined Bruce at the computer, and they both leaned over, whispering too low for her to hear.

She set her knife and fork down gently as Bruce straightened up and returned to her, his expression tight. “I’m sorry, I have to go out for a bit.”

“Somethin’ come up?” She tried not to sound too disappointed.

“Tim’s been tracking a mob hitman for the past week,” he explained, moving over to the case containing his suit. “He found him quicker than I expected, but he’s got back up.  I’ve told Tim to hold position until I can join him.”

He was strapping armored segments over his usual flexible bodysuit.  Little by little, Bruce was replaced by Batman.  He hesitated before donning the cowl.

“He could probably handle it himself, but I’d rather not take chances.” His eyes pleaded with Harley to understand.

She glanced over at the row of cases holding not just his, but the other suits his allies had worn over the years.  She recognized each and every one of them, including the red one she’d been avoiding looking at all night.

She understood far too well.

“I get it,” she reassured him with a smile. “I’ll be fine.  I got Alfred here to keep me company.”

“I’ll be back soon,” he said, before disappearing under the mask.  He strode over to the Batpod and with a loud roar, was gone.

After a pause, Alfred approached her. “Would you prefer to finish eating down here or shall we move upstairs?”

She’d only finished half the plate, but she found that her appetite had vanished. “Nah, I think I’m full.  Thanks though Alfred, it was all amazing.”

He bowed his head politely. “I’m grateful to hear it.  In that case, shall I show you to Master Bruce’s room?  You are welcome to sleep wherever you like of course, but he thought you might appreciate some, er, company tonight.”

Harley smiled at his discomfort. “That’s perfect.  Might be nice to freshen up a bit.”

“I hope you don’t mind if we take the elevator,” Alfred said, leading her up. “Master Bruce likes the dramatic reveal, but I prefer fewer stairs.”

The elevator let out in the larder and from there Alfred took her up the stairs to the master bedroom.  It was as palatial as the rest of the mansion, with a bed almost as big as her living room.  Her bag was set on the end of the bed, looking extremely out of place amidst the silk sheets and blankets.

“Please make yourself at home,” Alfred said. “I’ll be in the kitchen, should you need anything.” He closed the door gently as he left.

Harley wandered around the bedroom for a bit, peeking in the equally grand bathroom and sitting room.  She changed into a simple t-shirt and pants, starting to feel strange in the cocktail dress.  The bed looked like a giant marshmallow, so she took a giant leap into the center, only to bounce right off the shockingly stiff mattress and onto the floor.  Cursing, she picked herself up and sat on the edge, trying to figure out why in the world someone so rich would have such an uncomfortable mattress. 

She was now disinclined to go to sleep, but she hadn’t thought to bring any books with her for entertainment.  She imagined there was a TV in one of these rooms, but she was too nervous to go hunting.  Instead she decided to wander the manor some more.  She returned to the library in a vain attempt to find something even vaguely readable, but to no avail.  She debated going back to the cave and trying out that obstacle course but decided not to abuse her Batcave privileges so soon.  She definitely wasn’t going to ask Damian to keep her company.

Eventually she went looking for Alfred, thinking maybe he wouldn’t mind chatting a bit.  Even though she’d just come from there, it took her a little while to find the kitchen.

To her surprise, the same brand of soft rock he’d played during the drive was echoing lightly through the kitchen as she walked through the door.  Apparently, Alfred liked lady pop, who’d’ve thought?

He looked up from a sink of dirty pots, pans, and dishes as she approached. “Is there anything wrong, Ms. Quinzel?”

“Harley,” she corrected again. “And no, nothin’ wrong.  Just feels a little lonely wanderin’ around this big old house.  Thought I’d see what you’re up to.”

“Just tidying up a bit,” he said with a little smile, indicating the dishes. “You’re more than welcome to join me, I should be done in a moment.”

“I’ll help,” she said, moving over to the sink.

Alfred looked askance. “I assure you, that’s not at all necessary.  I can handle it quite well.”

Harley rolled her eyes. “I know Bruce probably grew up never touchin’ a sponge, but I didn’t.  You wash, I’ll dry, deal?”

He looked quite discombobulated, but she already had a towel in her hands. “Very well.”

After a couple plates, she thought to ask, “How come you don’t use that fancy dishwasher over there?”

“I rather like doing it by hand,” he mused. “I find it relaxing.”

Her attention was drawn once again to those callused, scarred hands as they scrubbed the edge of a pan.

“Bruce doesn’t really know about your past, does he?” Harley blurted out before she thought better of it.

Alfred gave her a quizzical look. “My past?”

She nodded at his hands. “I seen hands like that before.  I know how you get scars like that.  But the way he talks, he makes it sound like you never killed a spider.  I’ve seen his scars too.  You know how to stitch up a wound better than most docs I’ve met.  No chance you were a butler your whole life, unless it’s way more dangerous in England.”

Alfred set down the pan and looked at her, something resembling wonder on his face. “I’ve known Master Bruce his entire life, and not once has he ever made those associations.”

Harley shrugged self-consciously. “Most people are pretty oblivious with their parents.  They don’t think they ever had lives before havin’ kids.”

“All the same,” Alfred muttered. “You would think the Batman might be a little more observant.  You’re right, he’s never thought to ask what I did before entering the Wayne’s employ.” He turned back to the dishes.

“What _did_ you used to do?” Harley asked curiously.

“Very little I’m at liberty to talk about,” Alfred said matter-of-factly. “Suffice it to say, Thomas Wayne appreciated a butler with a…wide variety of skills.”

“Aw, no fair,” Harley pouted. “Now you got me wonderin.’  Was it military?  Spec ops?  Government?”

“I’m afraid I really can’t say,” Alfred maintained.

“Spoil sport.  Gotta be government, that’s the only thing’d still be classified.  If I guess right, will you tell me?”

“My dear, one might think you’re determined to have _all_ this household’s secrets.” His tone was serious, but he gave the tiniest little smile.

She flicked a little water at him. “Hey, your boss runs around in a cape.  A little government wetwork ain’t that big a deal is it?”

“You are persistent, aren’t you?”

“You got no idea.  Now, next guess.  Private mercenary in East Asia?”

She continued to make ever more outrageous guesses about Alfred’s previous career until they were finished with the dishes.  He denied every one, but with a gleam in his eye that told her he was enjoying the game.

As they set away the last of the dishes, he turned to the refrigerator. “Would you be interested in dessert, by any chance?  I rarely get the opportunity to bake, Master Bruce and Master Damian don’t eat sweets.”

“You don’t gotta ask me twice, I’m not watchin’ my figure,” Harley said eagerly. “What’d you make?”

“Tarte tatin,” he replied, setting the dish on the kitchen island. “Almost impossible to find in the States.  I make it occasionally, but it’s rather difficult to finish by oneself.”

Harley considered the rather marvelous looking pastry in front of her.  She’d never heard of tarte whatever-it-was before, but she had a sweet tooth a mile wide. “Well now you got company.  I bet I can put a dent in that.”

Alfred gave her an amused look. “Ms. Quinzel, I think you and I shall get along fine.”

“It’s Harley,” she corrected once again.

“Of course, Ms. Quinzel.”

She sighed in frustration.


	22. A Reason to Come Home (NSFW)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter, mostly smut.

To Bruce’s great relief, the operation went off without a hitch.  Between him and Tim, the group of thugs didn’t get off a single shot.

Bruce continued to be impressed by Tim’s technique and abilities.  Like Dick, he eschewed the range of gadgets that Bruce preferred.  In the early days, this had concerned Bruce, for Tim did not possess Dick’s sheer agility and speed.  However, Tim’s tactical skill rivaled Bruce’s own.  He moved as if the criminals he was taking down were pieces on a chess board that he’d lined up for that express purpose.  Every punch, every kick, every swing of his staff was as perfectly timed as a choreographed ballet.

When it was all over and the warehouse was littered with unconscious thugs, Bruce and Tim lingered on a nearby rooftop to watch Gordon’s men round them all up.  They shadowed the police convoy back to the GCPD to make sure nothing happened.

“Good work tonight, Robin,” Bruce said when the last of the cop cars pulled into lockup.

Tim’s eyes were barely visible under his hood. “Thanks.  Sorry to interrupt your night off.  I could’ve taken them, but you told me to contact you.”

“You did well.  There’s no reason to take risks.  We’re not spread that thin anymore.”

“Yeah, we actually get to see our girlfriends once in a while,” Tim remarked.

Bruce found it odd to think of Harley as his girlfriend, but he had no better word for it. “How is Oracle doing?”

Tim smirked sidelong at him. “Scared to ask her yourself.” Bruce didn’t bother responding to this jibe. “She’s fine.  Still watching Harley like a hawk.  She almost had a heart attack earlier when you gave her security clearance.  I managed to talk her down.”

“Thanks.” That last thing Bruce needed was another argument with Barbara. “She’ll be at the mansion tomorrow, if you want to meet her.  Again, that is.”

Tim nodded. “I was planning to drop by.  Try out a couple of the new toys.  I’ll see you then.”

“Can you take care of the rest of the patrol?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Tim assured him. “You should head on back, there’s still plenty of evening left.”

Bruce dithered a bit. “Call me if anything else comes up.”

Tim rolled his eyes under his hood. “Seriously, Bruce, I’m fine.  That was easily the most exciting thing that’s happened in weeks.  Get outta here!”

Trying not to show too much eagerness, Bruce dove off the side of the building, and glided back the where he’d left the Batpod.  He tried his best not to drive too crazy on the way back to the manor.  He couldn’t help worrying that he’d ruined the night by leaving, and Harley would have already gone to bed.

There was no one in the cave when he returned.  The Batpod skidded to a stop next to the Batmobile, and he quickly tore off the suit, not taking his usual care to replace it carefully in its case.

He took the elevator up for speed and emerged in the larder.  He was about to push the door open to the kitchen when he heard laughter coming from inside.  Leaning close to the crack in the door, he was surprised to hear both Harley and Alfred’s voices.

“How long’d it take him to recover?” Harley said, and he could still hear the mirth in her voice.

“Only a few months,” Alfred replied, and while his tone was more restrained, there was still a surprising undercurrent of humor. “Of course, he tried it again the moment he was well enough.  I had to ban trampolines for over a year until I was sure he wouldn’t do it again.”

“Oh God, that’s so funny!” Harley giggled. “Just picturin’ him hangin’ out of a tree like that!”

“It did become slightly more amusing as time went on.  At the time it was rather terrifying.  I’d initially feared he’d cracked his skull.”

“Nah,” Harley said, “Too thick.  You’d need somethin’ harder than a tree branch.”

Hearing them banter like that eased a tension Bruce hadn’t even been aware of.  He knew Alfred still had reservations about Harley, despite encouraging Bruce to pursue the relationship.  So the fact that they were getting along went a long way towards making him feel better.

Pushing open the larder door, he emerged into the kitchen.  Harley and Alfred were leaning against the island, a half-eaten pie of some kind sitting between them.  Harley was grinning ear to ear when she turned to greet him.

“Hey, there,” she said, with a mischievous look in her eye. “We were just talkin’ about you.”

“Not anything bad, I hope,” Bruce said mildly.

Her grin turned into a smirk. “Just childhood stories.”

Alfred straightened from the island. “How was the mission, sir?  They didn’t give you too much trouble, I hope?”

Bruce shook his head. “It went even more smoothly than I’d expected.”

“Tim alright?” Harley asked, and he was surprised to the hear the note of genuine concern in her voice.

“He’s fine.  Not a scratch on him.  He’ll be coming by the manor tomorrow to train, if you want to meet him.”

Harley smiled warmly. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

“Do you need anything before I turn in for the night, Master Bruce?” Alfred asked.

“No, Alfred, you should get some rest.  I’m about to do the same.”

“I’ll come up with you,” Harley said, bouncing over to him. “Thanks for the tarte-pie-thing Alfred!”

“Of course,” Alfred said, beginning to wrap up the dessert. “Good night, both of you.”

Harley clung happily to his arm all the way up to the bedroom. “I didn’t think you’d be back so quick.”

He held onto her gratefully. “We got lucky, it was a quick bust.  Were you okay?”

“Yeah, Alfred chatted with me.  I don’t know what that tart thing was, but it tasted incredible!  Do you really not eat dessert?” She looked at him like the idea was the craziest thing she’d ever heard.

He shook his head. “There’s no nutritional value.”

She rolled her eyes up at him. “You sound like Damian.  What’s nutritional value got to do with dessert?”

“I have to keep up a good balance,” he insisted. “It’s essential.  Besides, I have to fit in the suits.”

“The suit’s flexible, it can take it.  You keep up with this, I’m gonna tie you to the bed and force feed you a cake.”

He laughed, despite himself. “I’ll try to lighten up.”

“You’d better,” she said sternly. “I ain’t eatin’ dessert by myself.”

“You always have Alfred,” he pointed out.

She looked at him skeptically. “He’s great company, but I was hopin’ when we finally go to a restaurant it’d just be the two of us.”

“Don’t worry,” he reassured her. “I’m not _that_ dependent.”

They got to the bedroom, and Bruce finally let himself relax.  He was happy to see Harley’s bag on the end of the bed, not that he’d really expected her to choose another place to sleep, but you never knew.

“Do you mind if I take a quick shower?” he asked. “The suit doesn’t breathe very well.”

“Sure thing.” She flopped down on the bed and grabbed her phone. “Take your time, I’m not tired yet.”

In the bathroom he peeled off the sweat stuck clothes and stepped into the shower.  The hot water cascaded over him, washing away the last of his stress.  It was all okay, Tim was unharmed, their suspects had been apprehended, and Harley was still here.  He could relax for another day.

Despite what he’d said, he ended up taking longer than he planned, scrubbing himself as clean as possible.  By the time he finished, steam had fogged up the shower glass, making it impossible to see the rest of the bathroom.  He therefore didn’t know that Harley had joined him.

As he opened the door and emerged, toweling himself off, he finally spotted her sitting primly next to the sink.  His gaze was immediately drawn to what she was wearing, or rather what she was _not_ wearing.  To call the outfit ‘clothing’ was a radical misrepresentation of the strips of fabric decorating her body.  ‘String’ would probably be a better description.

The first thing he noticed was her breasts, because they were functionally uncovered, framed only by a few black pieces of silk.  He was still amazed by the unbelievably pale color of her nipples, barely darker than the rest of her skin. 

“Whaddya think?” she asked with a faux innocent grin. “I picked it up special for tonight.”

He was temporarily speechless.  In that moment she was, without a doubt, the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. “You look good enough to eat.”

“Well I ain’t gonna stop you.” She uncrossed her legs to show that the outfit merely framed her hips while offering no actual coverage to her pussy.

He hurried over to her and immediately dropped to his knees in front of her, spreading her legs wide and propping them up on his shoulders.  He was too impatient to tease or build up to it, he needed to taste her right now.

His mouth latched onto her pussy, tongue darting out to flick her swollen clit.  She was already wet, and he wondered if she’d been touching herself while waiting for him.  The idea made him even more excited, and he struggled not to devour her immediately.  Still, he licked her faster than he had before, relishing her taste on his tongue.

One of Harley’s hands gripped the top of his head, urging him on.  She was moaning lightly above him, driving him wild with the sounds she made.  He did his absolute best to draw out her pleasure, make it as good for her as he could.  But she was apparently just as impatient as him.  He’d only been at it a few minutes when she started pulling him up.

“I can’t wait,” she said. “I want you inside of me!”

He stood up eagerly, his erection practically aching with the same need as her.  She kissed him feverishly for a moment, running her tongue along his lips while he grabbed every inch of her he could reach.  Easing forward, he positioned himself at the entrance to her pussy and slowly pushed inside of her.

Harley broke the kiss and moaned while staring into his eyes, face contorted in pleasure.  She was still unbelievable tight; no matter how wet she got, her pussy clung to him like a vise.  He gritted his teeth against the overwhelming pleasure and started slowly rocking in and out of her.  She was impatient though, and reached over to grab his ass, forcing him to go faster.  He had to lean against her neck to keep himself from losing control.

“C’mon, Bruce, fuck me hard!” she whispered in his ear.

Her words set off something inside his head, unlocked some primal part of him that he normally kept buried.  Drawing out of her, he pulled her to her feet and spun her around.  She gasped, but quickly caught on, spreading her legs and leaning over the sink counter.  She stared at his reflection in the mirror as he repositioned himself and pushed back inside her.

Every time their hips collided she made a sharp noise of pleasure.  He could see her breasts bouncing in the mirror, or look down to watch her ass ripple as he thrust into her.

“I’m gonna come, Bruce, I’m gonna come!” she whimpered, her eyes desperate.

He wrapped both arms around her, pulling her back against his chest. “Look at me!” he demanded. “I want to watch you come!”

She did as he said, holding his gaze in the mirror as he drove her over the edge.  He continued to hold her up as her body shook violently in the throes of a powerful orgasm.  He managed to hold out from coming, not sure if she wanted more of him, gritting his teeth against the delicious contractions of her pussy around his cock.

She eventually stilled, but he didn’t let go of her, and she clung to him tightly, continuing to grind her pussy against him softly.

“Did I ever tell you,” she said, turning her head to look directly at him, “that I really like the taste of pussy?”

He shook his head numbly.

Her bright blue eyes burned into him. “Well I do.  A lot.  And now that I’m not gonna be with girls anymore, there’s really only one way for me to get what I want.”

She pulled off of him and turned, sinking slowly to her knees.  He watched, mesmerized as she started licking his shaft, gathering up the lingering wetness from her pussy.  She made a show of moaning at the taste, her eyes teasing him the whole while.

“Delicious,” she muttered before finally starting to take him into her mouth.

He remembered vividly just how good Harley was at giving head, and his memory didn’t fail him.  Her mouth was soft and wet as it glided up and down his length.  He was already so close from fucking her, he didn’t think he’d be able to take much of this.

“Harley…” he groaned in warning.

She took her mouth off his cock, but not to stop. “Oh, did I forget to mention?  I don’t mind the taste of cum neither.”

With that she returned to sucking him off, her hands stroking the base of his dick feverishly.  Unable to restrain himself, he bucked into her mouth, the combination of sensations making him lose control.

He had to grip the sides of the sink to keep himself upright as he came in her mouth.  She continued to stroke him, but his orgasm seemed to go on forever, and she eventually had to pull back, some of his cum leaking from between her lips.  The last few spurts hit her neck and dripped down onto her breasts.

Bruce struggled to stay on his feet, breathing heavily.  Harley looked up at him, smiling in surprise. “Holy shit, you come a lot.”

“Sorry,” he muttered, unable to look away from the remnants of his orgasm decorating her tits.

“Don’t be,” she said, gathering up some of his cum on her hands and licking them clean. “It’s kinda sexy.  And you taste better than some of the guys I’ve been with.”

He chuckled. “Glad to hear it.”

He helped her to her feet, and got out of the way as she leaned over the sink to wash her chest off.  He was sure he’d never come that hard in his life, and he told her so.

She blushed lightly. “Flatterer.  It’s only fair, you make me shake like there’s a damn earthquake goin’.”

He drew her into another kiss, which seemed to surprise her, but she quickly recovered and kissed him back. 

“I’m glad you’re here,” he whispered quietly.

She nestled her head onto his shoulder. “Me too.  Hey, Alfred doesn’t wake you up, does he?”

He frowned in confusion. “Not typically.”

Harley gave him a wolfish grin. “Good, cuz I didn’t bother packin’ pajamas.”


	23. Training by a Different Name (NSFW)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in getting this chapter up, but life gets busy. I was a little rushed in editing, so please forgive any errors.

Harley woke up to the feel of soft sheets and a warm body beside her.  It was such an unfamiliar set of sensations that she first assumed she must be dreaming.  Only after she opened her eyes and looking up into Bruce’s peaceful, sleeping face did she allow herself to believe it was real.  Grinning broadly, she snuggled closer to him.

He must have been a light sleeper, because he stirred at the motion, and his eyes flicked open to look at her.

“Morning,” he said with a sleepy smile, squeezing her tight.

“Mornin,’” she replied. “You sleep good?”

“Better than usual, with you here.”

She buried her head against his side. “Betcha say that to all the ladies you bring home.”

“It’s been a very long time since I brought anyone home.”

“You mean you’re not sleeping with all those dumb lookin’ supermodels?” she said teasingly.

“That’s just for show,” he said quickly, as if worried she was genuinely jealous. “People expect me to date, so I find women who are too busy for a real relationship.  They usually get tired of me after a few weeks without an interesting conversation.”

“I figured.  Veronica said it was like you didn’t want anyone serious.”

“I didn’t.  Not until I met you.”

She blushed. “You talk nice, you know that?” She sat up and stretched her arms out over her head, pretending not to notice him staring at her tits. “I think I could use a shower.  Mind waiting for me?”

He shook his head and settled back on the pillows. “Take your time.”

And take her time she did.  She took a long time debating between a bath and shower, before deciding she’d save the bath for sometime when Bruce could join her.  The shower was the fanciest thing she’d ever seen, and she had to experiment a bit before figuring out how everything worked.  Once she did, she stood in the middle of a stream of water that felt more like rain, delighting in the simple comfort of it.

Bruce was waiting on the edge of the bed for her when she emerged, wearing a pair of sweats that again looked very strange on him. “Are you hungry?” he asked. “Alfred’s probably got breakfast ready by now.”

“Yes!” she replied, excited for more of Alfred’s cooking. “Starving!  Come on, let’s go!”

She waited impatiently for him to finish getting ready, then ran ahead of him to the kitchen.  Alfred looked up from a skillet as she burst in.  He didn’t appear surprised at her entrance.

“Breakfast will be in the nook this morning,” he told her. “I absolutely refuse to serve you another meal in that cave.”

“Aw, come on Alfred!” She leaned around him to steal a piece of bacon. “You mean you don’t like bein’ surrounded by a couple hundred bats while you eat?”

“As a matter of fact I don’t,” he said, snatching back the little bit of bacon she hadn’t managed to scarf down and giving her a stern look. “And a gentleman’s young lady should not be expected to either.”

She stuck her tongue out at his back as he disappeared with a tray into an adjoining room.  The moment he was out of sight, she reached for another strip of bacon.

“Put it down!” Alfred’s voice echoed from the other room, and Harley dropped it guiltily.

“How’d he do that?” she whispered to Bruce as he came through the door.

Bruce grinned. “Alfred has superpowers.  He only uses them to prevent food theft.”

Harley kept her hands to herself like a good girl until Alfred returned and announced that breakfast was ready.  Even then, when they were settled in the breakfast nook just off the kitchen, Harley waited before taking anything.

“You sure it’s okay to eat?” she said, giving Alfred her most exaggerated puppy dog eyes. “I don’t gotta say grace, or bow three times to the queen or nothin?”

Bruce stifled a laugh in his water cup.

Alfred retained his dignified expression as he poured her a cup of coffee. “Certainly not.  Please enjoy.”

He disappeared back into the kitchen and Bruce gave her an amused look. “You like teasing us, don’t you.”

She started grabbing Danishes, eggs, bacon, fried potatoes, and whatever else she could get her hands on. “You’re both so serious, it’s just too much fun!”

They didn’t talk much as Harley devoured more of Alfred’s excellent cooking.  She would have felt self-conscious that Bruce was only eating an omelet and fruit if it weren’t the most delicious breakfast she’d ever had in her life.

“No Damian?” she asked at one point. “He not allowed to eat breakfast with me til I’m pregnant with your third kid or something?”

Bruce cracked a smile. “Nothing like that, he’s probably just eaten already.  He disapproves of sleeping in.”

Harley shook her head. “That’s just not okay.  So, what’s on the agenda today?  How d’you spend your time when you’re not beatin’ up bad guys?”

“I usually work out after breakfast,” Bruce told her. “And like I mentioned, Tim’s coming by later to train.”

“Okay if I join you?” Harley said around a mouthful of muffin. “I should probably try to work off some of this.”

“Of course.”

“How’s Tim takin’ this whole you an’ me thing anyway?” She knew he was involved with Barbara, and had been worried about his reaction.

Bruce got a pensive look on his face. “It’s hard to tell.  Tim keeps things pretty close to the vest.  I think he’s taking it well, but he’s difficult to read.”

Harley tried not to dwell on that and just enjoy the rest of her breakfast.

After she’d done her best to eat the entire spread, despite the fact that it would have fed a small village, she leaned back in the chair, feeling contentedly full.  Alfred came back through to clear the dishes and handed Bruce several newspapers.

“Do you read the paper?” Bruce asked, offering her one.

“I do the crossword,” she replied, taking the paper and fishing out the puzzles. “And Lucius makes me read the business section and crime briefs now, so I know what’s goin’ on.”

“It looks like we’ll have to trade then.  Those are the only ones I bother with.”

She feigned shock. “What?  You mean you’re not readin’ the fashion section?  How are you gonna know whether those shoes are in vogue this season?”

Bruce smiled slightly. “I imagine I’ll get by somehow.”

Harley made it three pages into the business section before she lost patience and tossed it back on the table.  She simply couldn’t make herself care about whatever corporate merger or crash was happening today.

Bruce glanced up from the crime briefs. “Shirking your responsibilities?  What would Lucius say?”

“He wouldn’t say nothin,’ cuz he ain’t ever gonna find out.” She gave Bruce a threatening look. “Right?”

Once Bruce had decided that they had digested breakfast long enough, he led her into a ballroom that he’d converted into a fitness center worthy of an Olympic athlete.  Not that her little gym was fancy, but Harley didn’t even know what half the equipment was for, and most of what she did recognize were gymnastics equipment.

“You don’t do anything halfway,” she remarked, glancing around the walls at the bewildering variety of weights, fencing gear, and other sparring weapons.

“Do you need something else to wear?” Bruce asked by way of response.

She looked at him suspiciously. “You mean you keep a buncha ladies clothes around here?”

“Sort of.” Bruce walked over to a drawer near them and pulled out a few different outfits. “Just in case you wanted to join me.”

Harley picked up one of the sports bras and checked the label. “You know my size?”

“Body scanner,” Bruce explained.

She raised an eyebrow at him. “Okay, that’s a little creepy.”

He had the good grace to looks slightly embarrassed. “Will it be less creepy if it’s comfortable?”

She finally noticed that the piece she was holding was lululemon.  Looking over, the rest of the options were similarly high-priced brands that she hadn’t been able to bring herself to buy, despite her new salary. “Maybe a bit,” she admitted.

“There’s a bathroom to get changed in over there.” Bruce pointed at the far end of the room.

Did he really think she needed privacy to get changed?  Shows what he knew.  Maintaining constant eye contact, Harley pulled her shirt over her head and tossed it aside.  Bruce watched her as she undid her bra and pushed her pants off.  Nearly naked, she sorted through the various outfits.

“Whatcha think?” she asked, holding up a couple on either side of her. “Blue or pink?”

Bruce appeared to be having trouble looking at the options but managed to glance away from her body for a few seconds. “The blue is nice.”

“Blue it is!” she said brightly, pulling on the light blue sports bra and corresponding yoga pants.

They were, in fact, extremely comfortable.

“Alright, no more shows happenin’ here,” she told Bruce briskly. “Let’s get sweaty!”

Bruce arched an eyebrow at her choice of words, but strode into the labyrinth of fitness equipment, tossing his shirt off as he went.  Which was entirely unfair, Harley thought.

She started with yoga, and to her surprise Bruce joined her.  He went slower, and wasn’t nearly as flexible as her, but she was still impressed by his range of motion.

“I have to limber up first,” he explained when she looked at him curiously. “Otherwise I’ll just collapse.  Too much damage to my joints.”

Once they were both nice and stretchy, he started to run around the short track lining the edges of the gym, while Harley taped her hands up and went to the punching bag.  There were a variety of practice dummies, including the creepy ones with faces, but she preferred the regular cylindrical ones. 

After a good fifteen minutes or so of beating up the tough bag, she wandered over to the uneven bars.  It had been a long time since she’d practiced, and it took a couple attempts to recall her form.  She laughed happily once she got spinning, remembering how much she used to enjoyed twirling around.  Unfortunately, she got dizzy fairly quickly, and had to dismount and prop herself up against the balance beam, giggling at the irony.

Bruce had moved on to weights, lying on a bench with dumbbells in each hand.  Harley watched him while she got her feet back under her.  She had truly never understood men’s obsession with working out until they were grossly jacked.  There were always at least a few guys at her gym who, when they were pumping iron, would make these absurd grunting noises during each rep.  When they were done, they’d let the weights crash to the floor and jump up shouting “Yeah!” or some other such ridiculous thing.  It was like peacocks ruffling their feathers, trying to impress each other with their masculinity, while Harley and any other women present just rolled their eyes.

Watching Bruce work out was nothing like that.  He was certainly as muscular as some of the jocks that she made fun of, but he possessed none of their silly, fragile masculinity or showiness.  With each rep, he let out a sharp inhalation of breath, which she knew was simply part of the technique.

And his face…God his face.  His expression was so intense, brow furrowed and lips slightly parted.  He never glanced over to see if she was watching, or made a show of pumping himself up.  He was just focused, singularly concentrated on what he was doing.

It was…strangely sexy.

She realized that she was breathing faster, despite having been stationary for several minutes, and there was a heat pooling in her stomach.  She just couldn’t tear her eyes away from him as his arms moved up and down, over and over.

When he was done, Bruce carefully laid the weights down next to the bench and sat up, rolling his right shoulder around.

“Oh fuck it!” Harley muttered, and she marched over to the bench, tearing her bra off as she went.

Bruce looked up in surprise, but before he could ask what she was doing, she’d latched onto his lips and pressed her breasts up against his chest.  The question died in his throat, and his arms came up to encircle her.  She pushed him back onto the bench and straddled him, continuing to kiss him as hard as she could, as if his mouth was the only source of air in the room.  One of her hands managed to push the waistband of his sweats down far enough to get his cock out.  Bruce on the other hand, was struggling to get her pants over her ass.

She pulled off his mouth long enough to say, “Just rip ‘em!  Looks like you bought spares.”

He gave her an intense, seductive grin that made her heart skip a beat.  The next second, his fingers bunched in the stretchy fabric and simply shredded both the leggings and her underwear to pieces. 

Yeah, that did it for her.

Without wasting time, she sank onto his cock, relishing once again in the delicious feeling of being stretch out.  He grabbed her ass and helped her lift her hips up and down.  The feeling of those strong hands cupping her ass, that intense look in his eyes as he gazed up at her, it all just drove her completely wild.  She wanted to fuck him until she saw stars.

As it turned out though, he did most of the fucking.  At some point, he took over the pace entirely, holding her hips tightly as he hammered up into her.  She clutched his shoulders, whimpering into his ear.  When she came, twitching above him, he pulled her down on his cock, moaning along with her as he emptied himself in her.

She went limp on top of him, shuddering in the aftermath of the pleasure, feeling him soften slowly inside of her. “Sorry to interrupt your workout,” she said shakily.

“It’s okay,” he told her with a smile. “I like this better.  We might want to get cleaned up though, in case Alfred comes to check on us.”

“Aw, fine.” Harley reluctantly pulled off of him, using the remnants of her leggings to keep from making a mess all over the place, before freeing herself from the scraps.  She decided a quick rinse was in order and went into the room marked for ladies.  She’d have happily showered with Bruce, but she was worried she’d jump him again, and they had things to do today.

Bruce emerged from his shower to see her pondering a slight dilemma.  She turned to him holding the pieces of her underwear. “Guess I’m not wearin’ panties today,” she said with a wink.

He blushed slightly.  She loved that she could make him bashful. “Sorry, I got caught up in the moment.”

“Don’t be,” she said, leaning up to give him a peck on the lips. “I like it when you get all manly.”

They redressed, Harley going commando and ignoring the weird combination of embarrassment and naughtiness it evoked in her.  None too soon either, for Alfred entered the room a moment later.

“I apologize for the interruption,” he said politely. “But Master Drake has arrived and is waiting in the cave.”

Bruce played the whole thing much cooler than Harley, who felt oddly guilty. “Thanks, Alfred, we’ll head right down.”

Harley almost thought they’d gotten away scot free when Alfred called out to them. “Ms. Quinzel, was there an issue with the clothing we provided?”

She turned, mortified to see that he was holding the torn leggings up for examination.  In the rush, she’d forgotten to grab them. “No, uh, just think I stretched too much,” she stammered. “They came apart when I was tryin’ to do a pose.”

“My sincerest apologies,” Alfred said, folding up the remnants. “I was assured these were excellent brands.”

“It’s okay, Alfred,” she replied, now feeling distinctly guilty. “I just think I got a little rough with ‘em.”

Next to her, Bruce managed to turn a chuckle into a cough, and she resisted the urge to step on his foot.

Alfred put the leggings in a trash bin near the door. “In any case, please let me know if you have similar issues with any of the other items in the future.”

“Sure thing,” she assured him, willing her face not to turn red before turning to Bruce. “Come on, we shouldn’t keep Tim waiting.”

Once they were in the hallway and out of earshot, she breathed a sigh of relief. “Okay, so next time, don’t listen to me when I tell you to rip somethin’ off of me.”

Bruce grinned. “I don’t know.  I found that fairly entertaining.”

She glared at him. “I think I liked you better without a sense of humor.  How about we bring that back for a bit?”

When they got to the Batcave, Tim was leaning against the Batmobile, waiting for them to arrive.  Another motorcycle, presumably his own, sat next to the Batpod.  He pushed himself up and walked over to meet them.

It had been a while since she’d seen him, and that had been in his Robin guise.  He was a nondescript young man, with hair cut close to his scalp, and bulkier than the previous Robins, particularly Nightwing.  He was almost as tall as Bruce, but he carried himself differently.  It was hard to ignore the way that Bruce took up space, no matter how moronic or bland he tried to make himself.  But there was something about Tim that immediately caused your eyes to glide past him.  It was the sort of mild, forgettable energy that would make him invaluable to a crew looking for someone to scout out a job.

She decided at once that he was more dangerous than any of Bruce’s allies.  If he had a problem with her, she’d probably never see him coming.

Right now though, the smile he gave her looked perfectly friendly. “Nice to see you again Dr. Quinzel,” he said, stretching out a hand.

She shook it, smiling back. “You too.  And it’s just Harley, I don’t need anyone else in this house callin’ me Quinzel.”

His smile widened. “Can’t get Alfred to use your first name either?  I’ve been trying for two years.”

“Maybe we can wear him down?” she suggested. “Any chance you wanna help?” she directed at Bruce.

“Good luck,” he said ruefully. “I gave up in high school.”

“Probably not much luck for either of us then,” Tim remarked, turning to Bruce. “You want me suited up?”

Bruce nodded. “We’ll start with target practice.”

As Tim pulled his suit out of the case and disappeared into a changing room, Harley smiled at Bruce. “Nice kid.  Good manners.  Wonder where he gets that from.”

Bruce didn’t miss a beat. “Probably Alfred.”

She chuckled. “You sure you don’t mind me hangin’ out down here.”

“Not unless you’re bored.”

“I’ll just play with the computer if I get tired,” she threw out. “See what ‘beta level’ clearance gets me.”

He gave her a wry look. “More than you might think.”

Before she could follow up, Tim emerged, fully decked out in his Robin gear, albeit with the hood thrown back.  He grabbed a utility belt from a nearby table and moved to a platform set with a number of elastic looking practice dummies.  Bruce took up position behind him, while Harley sat on a railing off to the side where she had the best view.  She was itching to see what kind of training the Bat family went through.

“Left!” Bruce barked.

Tim immediately threw an arm out and a batarang landed with a thunk in the left most dummy.

“Right!”

Now a sharp piece of bat shaped steel sprouted from the center of the rightmost.

This continued for a bit, Bruce calling out directions, Tim striking at the corresponding dummy.  He was fast, reacting instantly to whichever direction Bruce shouted.  After a bit of that, Bruce started calling out sequences, which Tim handled just as easily.  Damian wandered down part way through the exercise and perched himself next to Harley.  Even sitting on a railing he managed to look strangely dignified.  He watched Tim practice with surprising intensity.

 “He’s pretty good, isn’t he?” Harley remarked, trying to start up a conversation.

The look Damian gave her was beyond disbelieving. “Hardly.  His technique is barely adequate.”

“Oh, um…” Harley glanced back at Tim, who hadn’t missed a single hit. “Really?”

“Yes,” Damian said shortly. “It’s disgraceful.  I hardly understand why my father allows him to wear the mantle.”

At that moment, Bruce simply said, “Continuous!”

Tim immediately began flinging batarangs, seemingly at random, in one unbroken stream.  He struck each dummy multiple times, until batarangs were sticking out of every one of them.  He only ceased flinging bits of metal when Bruce said, “Stop!”

Tim’s arms fell to his sides, and he went to retrieve his weapons before returning to Bruce.

“Well done,” Bruce said, nodding his approval. “Sparring next.”

Harley debated about speaking up, not sure if it was her place, or if she should give Damian anymore ammunition, but she thought better safe than sorry. “Hold on sec.  Was he supposed to be throwin’ a pattern in that last one?”

Bruce and Tim paused and looked at her curiously, while Damian’s intense gaze snapped onto her. “No,” Bruce said. “It’s meant to be random.  Why?”

“Cuz he was slippin’ into one, once he got goin.’” Harley said, feeling self-conscious.

Bruce frowned. “Go again, Tim.  I want to see this.”

He had Tim repeat the exercise, and once again Harley saw him repeat the pattern she’d noticed earlier.  But when Bruce had him stop, he looked skeptically at Harley. “I’m not noticing anything.”

She felt that familiar sense of ‘fuck it’ that she got when being challenged.  Hopping down off the rail, she went to stand in front of one of the dummies. “I’ll prove it.  Do it again.”

Tim looked uncertainly at Bruce, who nodded after a moment of consideration. “Use the practice ones.”

“You don’t gotta,” Harley insisted. “He’s not gonna hit me.”

Bruce gave her a look. “Let’s not take chances.

She rolled her eyes. “Fine.”

Tim returned a moment later with wooden versions of the batarangs that were padded at the ends. “Are you sure?” he asked nervously.

“Come on,” she said impatiently. “Let’s just do it.”

Shrugging in a resigned sort of way, Tim started flinging batarangs again.  He was good, Harley had to give him that.  Nothing about his body language or eyeline gave away which dummy he was aiming at; he looked steadily at her the entire time as batarangs hit dummies on either side of her.

When the one aimed at her finally came flying, it did so far too fast for any normal person to dodge.  Except she was already moving out of the way, and it hit the dummy she’d been standing in front of with a muffled thump.

Bruce and Tim’s eyes both widened in shock as Harley looked at them smugly.  Damian was watching her motionlessly, brow furrowed. 

“How’d you do that?” Tim asked in astonishment.

“Toldja, you got a pattern,” she repeated. “It’s a complicated one, but it’s still there.”

Now Tim was the one with a stubborn look on his face. “Let’s try it again.  Different position this time.”

Obligingly, she took up a spot in front of a different dummy.  Once again, padded wooden batarangs flew.  And once again, the one aimed at her flew right by as she sidestepped it.

Bruce nodded as he approached them. “I see it this time.  You’re repeating on certain hits.  It’s odd, but it’s there.”

It took a while for Harley and Bruce to explain the weirdly mathematical pattern that Tim had fallen into.  In the end, Bruce had to draw him a diagram, showing the geometry of his attacks.  Once he caught on, he insisted on continuing to practice until he could break the cycle.

“I’m surprise you caught that so quickly,” Bruce said to Harley in an undertone as Tim resumed.

She shrugged modestly. “I spent a lotta time tryin’ to figure out some flaw in your technique.  Guess I’m just used to lookin’ for patterns.”

“Still, thank you for telling us.  If someone like Riddler or Deathstroke were monitoring him, they’d pick it up sooner or later.  That kind of thing could easily get him killed.”

“I know.” Harley’s gaze wandered back to the suit displays.

When she looked back, Bruce was regarding her with a calculating expression on his face. “Would you be willing to train with him occasionally?”

She was genuinely surprised by the request. “Why?  That was probably a fluke, I doubt I’ve got much more to show him.”

“I don’t think so,” Bruce said. “In fact, I think there’s a lot you could teach him that I couldn’t.”

“Like what?” she asked incredulously. “You always beat me when we went up against each other.”

“That was early on, when I was at my prime,” Bruce replied, looking reflective. “We never fought at yours.  Besides, he can only learn so much from me.  The more opponents he faces, the better he’ll get, and this is a much safer place than out there.  Will you give it a try?”

She was still skeptical, but more than willing to help keep this Robin alive. “Sure, no problem.  You want me to get started right now?”

Bruce shook his head. “No, I’ve got a few ideas I think would interesting to try.  Besides,” his expression turned mischievous, “we’ve already ruined one outfit of yours today.  No reason to destroy another.”

She punched him lightly in the arm, causing him to laugh.

After Bruce and Tim were satisfied with their target practice, they moved to a sparring mat.  Bruce didn’t don his suit, which surprised Harley at first, until she realized that Tim was hardly likely to fight armored vigilantes on the streets.  She watched with interest as Bruce cycled through an absurd variety of fighting styles.  She didn’t have enough formal training to identify more than a couple of them, but she could tell when his stance or moves changed.

Tim always adjusted right along with Bruce, shifting his style to mirror that of his teacher.  That right there gave her some ideas for whenever Bruce decided to have her work with Tim.  The young man was obviously talented; his technique was superb, but he kept letting Bruce dictate the terms of the fight.  He hardly ever took the offensive.  Depending on who he was fighting, that could be a problem.

Something must have shown on her face when she had this realization.  Damian, who had continued to shadow her, said, “You see it too?  He lacks aggression.”

“Maybe he’s holdin’ back cuz it’s your dad?” Harley guessed.

Damian shook his head. “I have observed recordings of him in the field.  He is just as passive.  It will likely get him killed.”

“Maybe not.  He’s made it this far.”

“Only because father currently maintains order.  He would fare far worse against some of your former compatriots.

Unfortunately, Harley couldn’t help but agree.  Tim was obviously good, but she wondered if he’d be able to handle the likes of someone like Deathstroke, Two-Face, or Joker.

Once they were done sparring, Bruce let Harley join Tim in testing out a few gadgets, just for fun.  She recognized Fox’s work immediately, but far more advanced.  Although by no means an expert, she was blown away by the craftsmanship that went into the devices he’d created for Bruce and his allies. 

Then it was lunch.  Or early dinner, if one looked at the clock, but Harley figured normal eating schedules were hardly important around here.  Tim managed to persuade Alfred to bring food down to the cave, so he wouldn’t have to change in and out of the suit.  The disapproving look on Alfred’s face made Harley laugh herself silly.

Lunch was sandwiches, but to call them sandwiches seemed a radical disservice to Harley.  She’d certainly never had a sandwich that tasted this good, or had this much care put into it.  Of course, neither Bruce nor Tim seemed to appreciate the food, they just scarfed it down like starving wolves.  Damian was a bit more composed, but even he seemed to view the meal as a chore, as opposed to an experience.

They ate at the same little table where Harley and Bruce had shared dinner the previous night.  The sight of Tim sitting next to them, wearing his Robin suit while eating a sandwich sent her into another fit of giggles.  At least Tim had the good grace to join her in laughing once she explained what was so funny to them.  Damian and Bruce just looked at her in confusion.

Once they’d eaten, Bruce and Tim began working on the variety of cases they were tracking.  This _was_ a bit boring to Harley, and she wandered over to the massive Batcomputer.  Most of the files on it were related to surveillance, dossiers, or other such crime fighting activities.  However, her attention was drawn to a little folder down in the corner, away from all the other files, labeled “Games.”  Curious what kinds of games would be on the Batcomputer, she clicked on it, and a surprising variety of adventure and puzzle games popped up on the screen.  She browsed through them, hardly believing her eyes.

“You got Portal on here?” she blurted out unintentionally.

Bruce came over to her, frowning in confusion.  When he saw what she was looking at, his eyes widened slightly. “Dick used to play video games on here.” He looked over to Alfred, who was clearing the remains of lunch. “I thought I had you delete these?”

“Master Todd persuaded me not to,” Alfred explained. “And later, I didn’t have the heart to get rid of them.”

Bruce looked back at the screen, a distant expression on his face. “I understand,” he said quietly.

Damian frowned. “Well I don’t.  Surely these are taking up unnecessary space?”

“We have a petabyte of storage,” Bruce chided his son gently. “I think we can handle a few video games.”

“I’m definitely not complainin,’” Harley said. “You got some good ones.”

Bruce smiled at her. “Enjoy yourself.  Someone should if we still have them.”

“Oh I will,” she assured him, opening up Portal.

Damian rolled his eyes, the most adolescent expression she’d yet seen on his face, and marched out of the cave.  She giggled slightly at his act of, admittedly mild, petulance and turned to her game.

It had been quite a few years since she played a video game, and she’d forgotten how much fun it could be.  The Batcomputer was certainly a higher quality platform than she’d ever enjoyed before.  She lost track of time, not looking up until Bruce touched her shoulder lightly.

“Tim’s leaving,” he told her.

Over by his motorcycle, Tim waved. “See you later, Harley!”

“You too, Tim!” she called back.

She watched him kick start his motorcycle and fly off into the labyrinth of tunnels.  When he was gone, she looked back at Bruce. “His name was Todd?”

Bruce didn’t need clarification about what she was asking. “Jason Todd.  I adopted him after Dick started college.  I caught him trying to steal the Batmobile’s tires.”

“I never knew his name,” Harley said quietly. “I probably coulda figured out, but I was scared to.  I wanted to pretend I was done with Joker’s craziness.  Pretend I wasn’t responsible.”

“You _weren’t_ responsible,” he insisted. “You were with Ivy when it happened.”

She shrugged. “It’s like I told Barbara, that don’t change anything.  I still coulda turned him in.  Or never joined him in the first place.  A lot more people mighta been alive if I hadn’t helped him.”

Bruce crouched down next to her. “Maybe.  And maybe not.  He could have still broken out and done all of those things without your help.”

She gave him a skeptical look. “I was the one who got him out all those times.  Takin’ advantage of Arkham security.”

“I’ve thought about that,” Bruce said. “And I’m fairly convinced he could have managed it anyway.  You were just the most convenient tool at the time.”

Harley wasn’t convinced. “Then how come he hasn’t done it since I turned him in?”

“Two reasons.  One, security’s improved a lot over the years.  We’ve learned from our mistakes, closed a lot of the gaps.  Two, he’s barely functional anymore.”

She frowned. “Whaddya mean?”

“When you turned on him, he couldn’t take it,” Bruce explained. “He was angry when you left him, but he always assumed you’d come back.  And then you demolished his whole organization.  He didn’t see that coming.  He was convinced you were his.  You showing independence like that broke him.  He’s spent the last three years mostly unresponsive.  The few times he’s tried breaking out, he’s been too distracted for a decent attempt.”

Harley was having trouble wrapping her head around what Bruce was telling her. “How would me betrayin’ him have that big an impact?  He didn’t really care about me.  It don’t make no sense.”

“It does if you think about it.  You told me once that the Joker saw people as toys, not individuals with free will.  He just thought they were things to play with and get rid of when he got bored.” She nodded. “Well imagine if one of your toys came alive one day and spit in your face?  If this game,” he motioned at the computer, “suddenly put you in jail, how would you react?”

Harley was struck by the analogy, particularly given what she knew about Joker. “It wouldn’t make sense to him.  He’d have to reevaluate his whole take on the world.”

“And from what I’ve been able to gather, it’s proving difficult,” Bruce said. “He can’t reconcile his twisted philosophy with what you did to him.  In his world, people can only get worse, not better.  It doesn’t make sense to him.”

Harley was dumbfounded.  She’d gone to the police mostly for her own peace of mind, so that she could say she had done what she could to stop the Joker hurting anyone else.  And when he hadn’t managed to break out again, she’d assumed it was because her advice had worked.  She was just now realizing that she’d still been thinking of herself the way that Joker had, as an accessory whose only purpose was her material utility.  The idea that she’d mattered to him, even in such a twisted way, and that her exercise in independence had such an effect on him was more than revelatory.

It was liberating.

She flung her arms around Bruce’s shoulders. “Thank you,” she whispered to him.

“I’ll be going on patrol soon,” he told her. “Were you going to stay another night?”

Harley thought about it.  She really didn’t want to go home, but she also didn’t relish the thought of sitting in this gigantic house alone all night. “I don’t think so,” she said regretfully.

Bruce accepted that well. “Would you rather have me or Alfred take you home?”

She frowned. “I thought we were worried about you bein’ seen droppin’ me off?”

“We’re worried about _Bruce Wayne_ being seen,” he corrected her. “Not Batman.”

Her eyes widened, and she looked over to the Batmobile. “Wait, you mean…?”

He gave a small smile. “Feel like going to for a ride?”

“Hell yeah!” She closed out her game and sprang up. “Just let me get my stuff!”

She ran back to the elevator and bounced up and down impatiently as it rose up into the manor.  Dashing through the kitchen and past a startled Alfred, she jumped up the stairs and into the bedroom, where she threw her things haphazardly into her bag before running back down.

She paused briefly in the kitchen to give Alfred a quick hug. “Thanks for pickin’ me up and feedin’ me,” she said to him.

“I take it Master Bruce will be escorting you back home?’ Alfred asked.  When she nodded, he moved over to the refrigerator. “In that case, allow me to provide a care package for you to take with you.” He handed her a cloth bag.  Peering inside, she saw a variety of fancy food containers. “I’ve provided instructions for reheating, as well,” he added.

She smiled happily at him. “Thanks, Alfred!”

“My pleasure, Ms. Quinzel.”

Bruce was waiting next to the Batmobile, already decked out in his suit. “Ready to go?” he asked.

She hopped into the passenger seat of the Batmobile, storing her bags at her feet and clapping her hands excitedly.  Grinning slightly, Bruce got into the car next to her and started up the engine.  The platform on which the Batmobile was parked began rotating, until it was facing the exit.  Then, with a roar, they were off.

Harley watched the tunnels speed by as they zoomed out of the cave, soon emerging in a forested area she figured was near the Palisades.  She’d ridden in the Batmobile before, but she’d never been able to properly enjoy herself.  It was exhilarating as they spun through the streets of Gotham, dodging between cars and people.

The ride was over far too soon for her liking as Bruce pulled into a deserted alley near her apartment.  She sighed in disappointment as the car screeched to a halt.

“I had a really nice time this weekend,” she said softly to Bruce.

He leaned his head gently against hers. “So did I.  Again soon?”

She nodded. “Definitely!”


	24. It's a Date!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry once again for the delay, but real life got very busy. I'll try to keep up, but posting might be a little sporadic for a while. Thanks as always for reading!

“Master Bruce?”

Bruce looked up from the table where he was assembling his gear. “What is it, Alfred?”

Alfred was standing a short distance away, holding a few pieces of paper and a clipboard. “I shall need your final guest list for the benefit this Sunday.  The coordinators are growing nervous.”

Bruce tried not to groan.  This part of being Bruce Wayne was often the most tiresome.  No matter how good the cause, he hated that it required spending so many hours rubbing shoulders with self-absorbed high society types.  This one was particularly burdensome because he was hosting it himself at Wayne Tower, which meant that he was expected to fill a VIP table with friends, family, and close business associates.

Of which he had very few.

“Did Lucius and Veronica confirm?” he asked.

“Indeed sir,” Alfred replied. “However, Mayor Hill sends his regrets that he will be unable to attend.  That leaves you with two seats to fill.”

“See if Karl’s free.  Tell him he doesn’t need to stay for the whole thing.”

Alfred made a note on the clipboard he was carrying. “Very good sir.  That just leaves us with one final guest.  Perhaps Commissioner Gordon?”

Bruce shook his head. “He told me two a month is his limit at the last one.”

“Master Damian then?”

“What?!  God no!” Bruce shuddered at the thought. “You remember the last time I took him to one of these things?”

“He is behaving far more appropriately of late,” Alfred pointed out.

“I’m not risking it.  We still haven’t figured out who the emeralds belong to.”

“What about Ms. Quinzel then?  The two of you have not yet made your relationship public.  Might this be the perfect opportunity?”

Bruce was hesitant. “I don’t know Alfred.  It would be a lot of attention.”

“There will be regardless, as I’m sure you’re aware,” Alfred pointed out. “One might argue that this environment will be a little more restrained than the circus that usually accompanies your dinner outings.”

“That’s true,” Bruce admitted. “And Veronica will be there, that might help.”

“You’ll be seeing Ms. Quinzel tonight, won’t you?  Perhaps you could ask?  It would be exceedingly bad form if yours was the only table that wasn’t filled.”

Bruce sighed in defeat. “Alright, I’ll talk to her about it.”

He tried to put the whole thing out of his mind as he ran his initial patrol through Gotham, but it lingered in the back of his brain.  Eventually he realized that it would continue to distract him until he dealt with it and decided to stop by Harley’s early.  She was still eating dinner when he pulled himself through the window.

“I didn’t think you were stoppin’ by til later,” she said in surprise as she jumped up to greet him. “I woulda made you somethin.’”

He closed the blinds before removing his cowl and giving her a kiss. “Spur of the moment choice.  Sorry I didn’t give you more warning.”

“That’s okay,” she said brightly. “You want me to whip you up somethin’ real quick?”

“No, it’s fine,” he said, sitting down at the table. “I had something I wanted to talk with you about.”

“Oh yeah, what’s that?  Cuz if Penguin’s gotten out again, I ain’t helpin’ you dig through the sewers.” She grinned teasingly at him.

He was too nervous to return the smile. “Nothing like that.  It’s just…there’s an event coming up that I’m hosting.  A charity gala.  We still have an empty seat.  I wondered if you wanted to come?”

Harley took a bite, her expression thoughtful. “As your date or just for the fun of it.”

“It’s up to you,” he assured her. “Veronica will be there, I could get her to suggest you.”

“What’s your preference?” Harley was unusually serious.

“I’d rather go with you,” he said honestly. “But I want you to be comfortable.”

“So what was holdin’ you back?”

He frowned. “What do you mean?”

“You said this was comin’ up soon, yeah?  How come you didn’t ask earlier?”

“I…I don’t know.  It’s not that I wouldn’t like to have you there,” he hurried to add. “I just wasn’t sure if _you_ would.”

She gave a wry smile. “Well there’s a quick way of figurin’ that out.  What’s holdin’ you back?”

He held off answering for a moment, so he could try to puzzle it out. “I guess I wasn’t sure where we stood.  You were still nervous about the attention it would bring, weren’t you?”

“Nah uh.” She wagged a finger at him. “That’s _my_ reason.  We’re talkin’ about you.  What’s _your_ reason?”

He stared at the table, seeing right through it. “I’m…not sure.”

Harley sighed. “I ain’t tryin’ to trick you here, Bruce, I just think we gotta be honest with each other.  Parta this whole relationship thing is tellin’ each other how we feel.”

“I know,” he said, “I’m just not…”

“Not used to this, I know,” she said sympathetically. “I’ll help ya out this time, but you need to work on it, okay?” He nodded.

She pushed aside her plate and folded her hands. “Right now, you’re feelin’ scared.  You ain’t never let anybody get this close before.  You’re used to things bein’ separate but now they’re all blendin’ together and you don’t know what to do.  You’re having trouble keepin’ it all straight.  Am I right?”

It was slightly terrifying how accurately she identified things he didn’t even realize were running through his head. “It’s just…” His throat felt like it was closing up and he had to swallow to get the words out. “It’s getting so confusing.  I want you with me, but half the time I hardly feel like myself.  I worry about what it will be like when I have to smile and pretend I’m something I’m not.  Will I be able to help you if it’s difficult?  Will you even want to be around me?” He was surprised by the fear that the thought evoked.

Harley leaned across the table to take one of his hands. “Hey, I’m scared too.  This is new for both of us.  But we’d have each other right?  If it gets to be too much, we would just make an excuse and leave, yeah?”

He nodded, the thought making him feel slightly better.  It wouldn’t be the first time he’d made a quick escape from an event. “I just don’t want this to make things harder for you either.  My life…it’s confusing enough already.  It doesn’t seem fair to you.”

“We’ve been through this already.” Her tone was gentle, but insistent. “When I said I want you, I meant _all_ of you.  We’ll figure it out.”

He squeezed her hand back, feeling some of the tension in his chest dissipate. “Alright then.  We’ll give it a try.”

“Hold on now.” Some of Harley’s usual mischievous energy had returned. “You’re forgettin’ something.”

He looked at her in confusion. “What?”

“You haven’t asked me out proper yet,” she said, her expression stern. “I’m a sophisticated lady, you gotta do this right.”

Bruce grinned reluctantly. “Harley, would you like to attend the charity ball with me?”

She pretended to think it over. “Well, I guess I don’t got any better plans.  Sure, why not?”

He shook his head in amusement.

 ***

“I hear you’ll be joining us this Sunday?”

Harley looked up from her computer.  Lucius was standing in the doorway to her office, a smile on his face.

“Looks that way,” she said with a smile of her own.

Lucius stepped all the way in and closed the door softly. “How are you feeling?  Nervous?”

“A bit,” she admitted. “First time goin’ out in public an’ all.”

“You’ll be among friends,” Lucius reassured her. “We’ll look out for you.”

“Thanks,” she said gratefully. “I think Bruce’s more scared than me.  He’s not sure how to be, you know?  He’s usually playin’ his idiot self at these kindsa things.”

Lucius laughed. “To be honest, I think he can act however he wants now.  He could show up on Sunday driving the Batmobile and no one would suspect a thing.”

Harley gave him a quizzical look. “Why’s that?”

“Because no one would ever think that Batman would date Harley Quinn.”

Harley laughed along with Lucius at the irony.  He was mostly correct; them dating was probably the best piece of misdirection that Bruce would ever get.  But Lucius was wrong about one thing.  There was one person who would make the association, and Harley had forgotten all about her.

With a sense of resignation, Harley opened her phone as soon as Fox left.

“Hey Doc, it’s Harley again.  Yeah, I gotta have a chat with you.”

 ***

“You know you don’t have to apologize every time you need to see me,” Dr. Leland said as Harley sat down.

“I’d feel better if you let me pay you,” Harley told her. “Right now I feel like a charity case.”

“It’s simpler this way,” Leland said. “What’s bothering you?”

Harley shifted in her seat. “You remember all that stuff about me and Batman?” The doctor nodded. “Well, I, uh, found out who he really is.  And we’re seein’ each other for real now.”

Dr. Leland smiled widely. “I’m very glad to hear that Harley.  You both deserve to be happy.”

Harley smiled quickly. “Thanks, Doc. Thing is, there’s just one problem.  You know I was with Batman.  That’s gonna make it pretty easy for you to figure out who he was once we go public, even if I don’t tell ya his name.”

Leland opened her mouth to say something, but Harley rushed on, needing to get it all out. “See he’s kinda well known, and word’ll probably get around.  I know you’re not gonna blab or nothin’, but I told him and his friends that I wouldn’t tell no one, and it’s I don’t wanna let ‘em down.  Some of ‘em were nervous about us, and I need ‘em to trust me.  I wasn’t thinkin’ about you or what you knew, and I just thought about it yesterday.  I’m not sure what to do exactly, I don’t suppose you can just not read the papers, like ever?  That’s probably not gonna work-”

“Harley!” Leland almost had to shout to get her attention. “Relax!  I already know it’s Bruce.”

Harley gave her a look of shock. “What, how?  Bruce didn’t mention you.  Did I let somethin’ slip?”

“I doubt he’s aware,” Leland said with a wry smile. “I’ve known both Bruce Wayne and Batman for a long time.  I made the connection early on.  Once you get past that façade he puts on in public, it’s easy to figure out.  So, you don’t have to worry about breaking your word, you haven’t told me anything I didn’t already know.”

“Oh.” Harley sat back in her chair, feeling silly. “Well that’s a relief.  Guess I got all worked up for nothin.’”

“It’s understandable.  Tell me though, how are you feeling about everything?”

“I’m nervous Doc,” Harley admitted. “There’s no way it won’t be a big deal.  I mean, Harley Quinn and Bruce Wayne?  The press is gonna go nuts.  I don’t know how I’m gonna handle the attention.  And we’re goin’ to this charity thing this weekend, there’s gonan be all these fancy rich folk.  What if they’re all assholes and just laugh at me?”

“Is it just going to be you and Bruce, or will you know anyone else?” Dr. Leland asked, concern mirrored on her face.

“Veronica and Fox’ll be there too,” Harley said, reminding herself as she said it. “Fox said they’d look out for me, and Veronica’s goin’ dress shoppin’ with me tomorrow.”

“That’s good.  Maybe keep close to them and see how everything is at first,” Leland suggested. “I’m sure they’ll understand you being nervous.”

Harley nodded, feeling a bit better.

 ***

“I still can’t believe Bruce asked you out.  After I told him not to steal you from Ben and everything.” Veronica’s voice drifted over the dressing room partition.

She didn’t sound that upset, but Harley still felt obliged to offer an explanation. “He was real gentlemanly about it, you know.  Asked if me and Ben were still a thing, and he’d wouldn’t be offended if we were or nothin.’”

Veronica’s tone turned chastising. “I’m still upset you didn’t tell me the two of you broke up.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” Harley replied guiltily. “I just felt silly after makin’ such a big deal about it.”

“He knows there’s no way he’ll find another girl like you in Seattle, right?”

“Yeah but it was a good job opportunity, he couldn’t pass it up,” Harley said, playing along with the story she’d spun Veronica about why she and “Ben” were no longer an item. “We’ll stay in touch.”

“Well, I guess it worked out okay,” Veronica allowed. “I could absolutely tell Bruce was interested.  The way he kept looking at you when we had lunch, it was like you were the only person in the room.”

Harley smiled happily to herself, before having one last look at the dressing room mirror and opening the door. “Whaddya think?”

Veronica gave her a critical once over. “I’m not sure yellow is really your color.  It clashes with your hair too much.”

“Yeah I know.” Harley sighed. “What else we got?”

Veronica turned to the rack with all the options the store attendant had helped pick out. “Let’s see.  Black’s too formal for this kind of thing.  Pink’s probably too informal.  What about green?”

“No,” Harley said flatly. “No green or purple.”

“How come?” Veronica asked in confused.  Harley just gave her a look. “Oh!  Yes, I see.  Okay, scratch that.  How about white?”

Harley scrunched up her face. “Too wedding dress, people’ll be talkin’ enough already.” She flipped through the selections in a morose sort of way before landing on one that she’d initially dismissed. “How about this?”

Veronica arched a speculative eyebrow. “Give it a try.” When Harley emerged a minute later, she gave a victorious, almost sinister grin. “Oh, yes, that’s the one!  He’s going to flip when he sees you in that.”

Harley walked over the pedestal so she could see how she looked from all angles.  The dress she’d chosen framed her figure extremely well.  It was open from neck to navel, but was drawn tight across her chest, and gathered at the side of her waist, avoiding gratuitous shots of her breasts while still showing off a bit.  The opposite side of the skirt featured a slit along the leg that stopped just short of being scandalous.  All in all, it was an elegant, asymmetrical look that still held plenty of sex appeal.  However, it was also bright red, which was why she’d initially avoided it.

“You don’t think it looks too much like my old costume?” she asked Veronica anxiously.

Veronica frowned. “What’s wrong with that?  I always thought that outfit looked fabulous.”

“I just don’t wanna remind people of what I used to do,” Harley mumbled, looking at her reflection. “I don’t want them thinkin’ I’m still crazy.”

To her surprise, Veronica spun her back around.  Her friend’s expression was unusually fierce. “You can’t let something like that define the rest of your life.  Who cares what any of those people think about you?  You’re a good person and screw them if they can’t see past a few mistakes.”

Harley felt like she should point out that it was more than a few mistakes, but she was so overwhelmed with gratitude that she couldn’t bring herself to say anything.  She grabbed Veronica and hugged her tightly.

“Thanks Roni,” she said, “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

She felt Veronica shift a bit before pulling back.  Her expression was conflicted. “Can I tell you something, Harley?”

Harley nodded and Veronica led them over to the little dressing room couch.  She sat facing Harley, still holding her hands.  Her face flickered through a range of emotions Harley couldn’t quite read.

“It’s hard talking about this,” she started, “but I used to be a very shallow person.  All I really cared about was the next party or whatever the latest gossip was.  I hardly ever thought about how people felt, or what I was like to them.”

Harley started to interrupt her, but Veronica cut her off. “No, no, let me get this out.  A while back, I was feeling like the parties I was throwing were starting to get boring, and I was trying to figure out how to spice them up.  Well, Penguin had just gotten out on parole, and I thought it would be a coup if I could get him to show up at an event I was planning.

“So, I spent a little time with him, a couple of dinners and things to get his attention before inviting him.  And it worked.  He came to the party, and it was a hit; everyone thought he was the most absurd thing.  Except it turned out he’d developed feelings for me, and when he found out the whole thing was just a trick, he snapped.  He kidnapped me for ransom, and Batman had to stop him.  The opera house almost burned down.  I always felt like it was my fault for manipulating him like that.”

She looked at Harley seriously. “Ever since then, I promised myself I wouldn’t be that self-absorbed again, and I’d try to help people instead of just using them.  And I don’t want you thinking I’m just taking pity on you, you’re really the best friend I’ve ever had.  I just thought you deserved to know that about me, and that I won’t let anything like that happen to you this weekend.”

Harley looked into her friend’s open, vulnerable face, and knew she should respond with some kind of assurance or comfort.  But before she could stop herself, she let out a loud, uncontrollable snort of laughter.

“Wait, that was you that got Penguin’s panties all twisted in a bunch?”

Veronica nodded, her expression surprised and confused.  Harley laughed again, struggling to contain herself.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!” she giggled. “I know that musta been real scary, but you wouldn’t believe how funny that was to the rest of us.”

“You mean you heard about that?” Veronica asked hesitantly.

“Of course we did, it was hilarious!  Not the whole messin’ around with him thing,” she hurried to add. “Look, Penguin always thought he was some kinda sophisticated high society type, but the truth is he was just a murderous gangster with a monocle.  You don’t even wanna know the kinda shit he got up to.  I bet he acted all nice to you so he could get himself a pretty dame to show off.  He only snapped cuz it turned out _you_ were the one playin’ him.” 

“But…” Veronica seemed to be struggling to incorporate this new information. “He seemed so sincere?”

Harley rolled her eyes. “Trust me, girl, if a guy really likes you, he don’t kidnap you and hold you for ransom when he finds out you’re not interested.  I learned that one the hard way.  Penguin was only out on parole cuz of a technicality.  He was behavin’ himself so his lawyer had enough time to squash his conviction.  I’m guessin’ he thought havin’ someone like you on his arm would help his case along.  He got what he deserved, goin’ down like that.

“An’ as for me, you’ve been a better friend than I ever had.  Hell even if you _were_ usin’ me to get attention, it’s still better than I deserve.”

Veroncia hugged her again. “You deserve the best, Harley.  Red it is then?”

Harley got up and took one more look at herself in the mirror.  Fuck it, she thought. Why not?

“Yeah.  Let’s do it!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case my description was a bit lacking, I took a lot of inspiration from Diana's dress in Batman v Superman for this. I also hope you like the little story about Penguin. I was trying to blend one of the episodes in the Animated Series with the more sinister version of him I had in my head.


	25. Seeing Red (NSFW)

Sunday arrived, and with it a considerable uptick in Harley’s nerves.  Despite the assurances of virtually everyone she knew, it was hard not to shake the feeling things were bound to go wrong.  She spent a lot of time on Saturday with her babies, who reassured her that everything would be just fine.

Most of the morning and early afternoon was spent with Veronica, getting their nails and hair done in preparation for the evening’s activities.  Then there was a brief, surreptitious meeting with Alfred, who was providing a little item to complete her ensemble.  Afterwards she returned to her apartment to finish getting ready and wait for Bruce to pick her up.

Once again, she sat by the window, impatiently watching the minutes tick by, keeping an eye out for a car that would surely be far too fancy for the Narrows.  Of course, even she, knowing the extravagant luxury to which Bruce was accustomed, was not expecting the astonishingly expensive, sleek looking vehicle that came roaring around the corner before stopping in front of her building.  She’d robbed a Lamborghini or two in her day, but this was definitely the fanciest looking car she’d ever laid eyes on.

Not even waiting for a text or some other sign that it was him, she grabbed her clutch and dashed out of the apartment.  She was so focused on getting outside as fast as possible that she collided with someone on the second floor landing.  The person managed to catch her before she went tumbling down the next set of stairs, steadying her carefully.

“I’m so sorry, I wasn’t payin’ atten-” She looked up and saw Bruce’s amused face gazing back down at her. “Oh, I was just comin’ down to meet you.”

“And I was just coming up to get you,” Bruce smiled. “I suppose we should work that out in the future.”

“I figured you wouldn’t wanna leave that fancy car all alone,” she said. “Now my big reveal’s all spoiled.  I was hopin’ for better lighting.”

“I don’t think the lighting matters when you look this good,” he mused, giving her outfit a long once over.

She stepped back to give him a better view and did a little twirl. “Whaddya think?” she asked, desperately hoping that he would like it.

In addition to the red dress, she was also wearing black flats, a sparkling black shawl that Veronica had lent her, and, the crowning achievement, a necklace of black diamonds.  That had been difficult to find, and she’d eventually called Alfred for help.  He’d enlisted the aid of a talented jeweler, who’d been able to provide not only the stones, but the distinctive diamond pattern she was looking for.  She’d also put alternating red and black polish on her nails.

Along with a hint of dark eye shadow to make her eyes pop and some deep maroon lipstick, the ensemble was a vivid callback to her old costume, albeit far more elegant.  Anyone who knew who she was would be hard pressed not to make the association with her super villain alter ego.

At the time, it had seemed like a daring way to own her past while reclaiming pieces of it for her own.  She’d created the Harley Quinn look, after all, not the Joker, and she thought she should still get some mileage out of it.  Now though, she worried about how Bruce would view such a choice.  Would he get the combination of irony and self-empowerment, or would he see a dangerous callback to an old foe?

When he finally looked up from his appraisal of her wardrobe, his eyes were sparkling with affection and something resembling a smirk. “You decided to go with scandalous?”

“I figured I might as well lean into it a bit.” She tried to play it off nonchalantly. “You like it?”

“I love it,” he replied, taking another good look. “It’s nice to see something like this in a less…hostile context.”

She smiled, relaxing considerably. “Glad to hear it.  You don’t look too bad yourself.” He was wearing an immaculately tailored three piece black suit with a black silk shirt and, to her surprise, a deep red tie. “Didn’t think red was your color.”

“I was thinking of you,” he said simply.

She opened her mouth to reply, but the unassuming sweetness of the gesture temporarily robbed her of speech.  Eventually she managed to say, “Well, looks like we’ll match pretty well.  Now c’mon, before someone steals your car.”

“I’d love to see them try.” But he allowed her to pull him down the stairs and out onto the street.

The car was indeed attracting a fair bit of attention, even more than when Alfred had picked her up.  But something about it, maybe the sleek black polish, or the cavalier way that its owner had left it sitting on the street, seemed to deter people from getting too close.

Bruce held the door open for her, and she felt like a proper lady as she settled into the comfy, surprisingly roomy leather seat.  A moment later, and they were off.  Bruce hardly drove slower in a Lamborghini than in the Batmobile.  Harley let out a surprised sound at first, grabbing the seat, before she got used to it.

“Still keeping up the reckless billionaire image?” she asked him as he barely made it through a yellow light before it turned.

He gave her a quick, guilty smile. “Actually, this is just me.  I can’t stand driving slow.”

She laughed. “You mean the guy who jumps off buildings in a cape’s a thrill seeker?  I never woulda guessed.  How d’you avoid the cops?”

Bruce flicked a switch on the console. “Police scanner.  But I let them give me a ticket once in a while, just to keep up appearances.”

Harley shook her head ruefully. “You think of everyhin’, don’t you.”  Truthfully, she rather enjoyed the speed; even before her life of crime she’d never had the patience to drive slow either.  Riding the train made her want to claw her eyes out some days.

“Can I ask you something?” Bruce said after a while.

“What’s that?”

“Just something I’ve been curious about.  Is there a reason you haven’t moved into a nicer apartment?”

Harley pursed her lips. “I guess I’ve gotten used to the place.  It’s cheap too.”

“You can afford a lot better now,” he pointed out.

She looked at him in confusion. “You gotta be kidding?  You know why I can’t.”

He gave her an equally confused glance. “No, I don’t.”

She was still skeptical. “You mean you haven’t looked up my finances lately?”

“Not since you joined the Joker.”

“Not a lot’s changed since then.  You really don’t remember?”

He arched an eyebrow at her. “That was almost ten years ago.  I’ve looked at a lot of people’s finances since then.  I don’t remember yours standing out.”

“You must look at some messed up bank account then,” she muttered.  Sighing, she resigned herself to the embarrassment of admitting it out loud. “I got a lotta debt.  I had a little shopping problem, even before Mistah J.  Wracked up about twenty thousand on top of student loans.  Two doctorates don’t come cheap.  And for some reason, they don’t just go away after you spend a decade as a super villain.  That really didn’t come up when you were lookin’ into me?”

“I’d forgotten,” Bruce said softly. “We wondered if that was why you were helping Joker, but it didn’t make sense.  He never really cared about money, and it didn’t take long to figure out you didn’t either.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say that,” she hedged. “It wasn’t really the money itself as much as it was the stuff you bought with it.  But when you’re a super criminal, you don’t really need money to get stuff.”

“You seem to have your spending under control now,” Bruce remarked.

“That’s cuz Dr. Leland spent three years workin’ with me on how to budget,” Harley explained. “She figured it’d be one of the tougher parts.  She was right too, it’s a freakin’ pain in the ass.”

Bruce smiled. “I suppose I wouldn’t know.  I imagine you still have enough for a better place though.”

“Yeah, probably,” she allowed. “But I don’t like owin’ so much.  I’m tryin’ to get it all paid down as fast as I can.”

“How much do you owe?  If you don’t mind me asking.”

Harley thought about it. “I guess I don’t mind.  Between the interest and not payin’ for ten years, it shakes out to a little over four hundred thou.”

Bruce’s eyes widened slightly. “Wow.”

“Yeah.” She shook her head ruefully. “If I save every penny I can, which I’m not, I should get it paid off by the time I’m fifty.  Course, that’s only if I can keep this fancy job you gave me.  Thanks for that by the way.  When I was doin’ data entry I had no chance of managin’ it.  I was just playin’ a game, seein’ what I could get it down to before I died.  Now I actually got a shot.”

“You’re welcome,” he replied automatically.  Then, after a moment, “You know, I could help you out with it.”

She shook her head, despite being sorely tempted by the offer. “No way.”

“Why not?” he asked. “It wouldn’t be that much trouble.”

“I know it wouldn’t,” she said, trying not to let any irritation leak into her voice. “I bet you wouldn’t even notice half a mil droppin’ outta your bank account.  But it’s my problem.  I gotta take responsibility for my own messes.”

“I could make the argument that you already have,” Bruce said gently.

“And _I_ could make the argument that I haven’t,” Harley retorted. “It’s a real sweet offer, Bruce, but I gotta deal with it myself.  You get it, right?”

He nodded. “Yeah, I understand.”

She put a grateful hand on his arm. “Thanks.”

A few minutes later they were approaching Wayne Tower.  Like Alfred, Bruce had a talent for navigating traffic far quicker than seemed possible.

“Are you ready?” Bruce asked as they pulled up to the red carpet that lead into the gala.  The roped off strip was lined with photographers and reporters; even through the car’s heavily tinted windows, Harley could see the camera flashes.

She took a deep breath, summoning up some of that old Harley Quinn devil-may-care confidence, and gave him a smile. “Let’s do it!”

Bruce returned the smiled and got out of the car.  There was an intense uptick in the number of photos, and volume of the photographers’ voices as she waited for him to come around and open the door for her.  She braced herself for the onslaught of noise and attention.  When the door finally opened, she summoned up a smile and swung her legs out, being careful to keep her knees tightly together.  The only thing worse than seeing her own face on the papers tomorrow would be if it was accompanied by a panty shot.

She took Bruce’s proffered hand and stood up, staring steadily into the flash of cameras.  Bruce gently tucked her hand into the crook of his arm and drew her up the carpet.  She was grateful for the help; the lights were making it hard to see.  The noise was disorienting as well.

“Mr. Wayne!  Mr. Wayne!  Who is your date this evening?!”

“Mr. Wayne, does this mean you’re no longer seeing Vanessa Halestrom?”

“Mr. Wayne!  Over here!”

Bruce smiled and waved but did not answer any of the questions being shouted at him.  Harley worked to keep the smile on her face as well, her hand tight on Bruce’s arm.  Fortunately, it seemed that most of the reporters’ attention was on Bruce, and not Harley.  They thought she was just another in a string of pretty faces Bruce brought along to these things.

Then, just as they were reaching the end of the carpet, someone looked closer.

“Oh my God, that’s Harley Quinn!  Ms. Quinn!  Ms. Quinn!”

The rest of the reporters caught on surprisingly quickly, and less than a second later they were swarming closer to the press line, trying to get a better look at them.  Several security guards stepped forward to restore a bit of order.

Bruce didn’t respond in any visible way, except to walk just a little quicker down the remaining carpet.  Harley followed, struggling against the deep set instinct to run the moment people started shouting “It’s Harley Quinn!” around her.  She only relaxed slightly once they were through the doors, and in the relative safety of the Wayne Tower lobby.

“Well that was fun,” she remarked sarcastically, not letting go of Bruce.

“I actually thought they’d catch on quicker,” Bruce said, starting to lead her toward the ballroom. “If Vicki Vale were here, she’d have recognized you right away.”

“I thought she only did big time investigative stuff?”

“Every now and then the network forces her to cover celebrity gossip,” Bruce explained. “And she used to be a bit obsessed with me.  Thought the time I spent away from Gotham was suspicious.  Took a while to get her to drop that line.”

“How’d you get her to back off?” Harley asked, eager for a distraction.

Bruce grinned. “I asked her to dinner.  Off the record of course, but she couldn’t resist a chance to ask me questions, even if she couldn’t publish the answers.  I spent two hours boring her to death talking about the different kinds of yachts I’d seen in Europe.  She hasn’t approached me since.”

Harley giggled. “The Joker used to say you had no sense of humor.  I almost wish he could see us.”

“That certainly would add to the evening’s ambience.” They reached the doors to the ballroom.  Bruce paused and turned to look at her seriously. “If you need to leave at any point, just tell me, and we’ll make an excuse.  Okay?”

She felt warmed by his reassurances and smiled up at him. “Thanks.  I’m good though.  Really.”

The ballroom was already mostly full.  As Bruce explained, attendees who were not considered ‘VIP’ were typically asked to arrive earlier, so that the photographers got plenty of time with celebrity guests.  As the host of the event, and one of the most famous men in the country, Bruce was one of the last to arrive.

A mass of people milled around the tables, greeting old friends, schmoozing with celebrities and businessmen, and generally enjoying the open bar to its fullest extent.  They were waylaid several times and it took a while to finally reach their table.

“Harley!” Despite having just seen her a few hours ago, Veronica jumped up and rushed to Harley, who reluctantly detached herself from Bruce in time to catch her friend. “You look gorgeous!”

“So do you!” Harley replied.  Despite her general aversion to all shades of green, she had to admit that the dark emerald of Veronica’s dress was stunning.

“Oh, I’m so excited you’re here!” Veronica gushed. “These things get so boring, now I have someone to talk with!  You better have a dance with me later too!”

Completely ignoring Bruce, whose face was twitching in amusement, she led Harley the rest of the way to the table.  A fancy placard bearing the label “Dr. Harleen Quinzel” was sitting on a plate in between Veronica and Bruce’s.  Lucius was on Bruce’s other side, and he gave Harley a warm smile as she approached.  The other six occupants were strangers to her.

Bruce should have been the one to introduce her, but Veronica preempted him.  Their responses were identical to those of the other people she’d met on the way to the table.  At first they smiled their typical, greasy rich people’s smiles and reached across the table to shake her hand.  Then, once her name percolated through the booze, their smiles froze, and their eyes widened in shock.  Their gaze flicked to Bruce and, with considerable reluctance, they completed the gesture, letting go of her hand as quickly as possible and sitting down nervously.

All except for an old man with a Southern drawl who introduced himself as Karl Rossum.  He smiled pleasantly and didn’t look like he wanted to run once he heard her name.  If anything, he looked bored once he sat back down, pulling out his phone and flipping through it in an antsy sort of way.

Bruce shook hands with the occupants of the table as well, pretending not to notice the way their eyes kept flicking back to Harley.

One woman whose name Harley had already forgotten leaned forward, trying not to look nervous. “So Bruce, how did you meet Ms. Quinzel here?”

Bruce was fully in his goofy billionaire mode. “Through Lucius, actually.  He hired Harley as one of our security consultants.  We got know each other a bit, and, well…” He spread his arms as if to say, ‘the rest is history.’

The energy at the table got, if anything, even more nervous.  One or two, obviously businessmen, looked at Lucius. “Really?  She’s working with you now, Lucius?”

“Indeed,” Lucius said easily. “Dr. Quinzel’s been an incredible asset to our team.  The improvements she’s made have been nothing short of brilliant.  You’ll see in our shareholder’s report next month.”

The looks from around the table went from anxious to cautiously curious. “I imagine with your background, you’d have a lot of experience with security Ms., uh, Dr. Quinzel,” one of the businessmen said.

Harley shrugged, trying to appear modest. “A bit.  I’ve seen a couple things over the years.”

“I imagine,” the man said. “How are you enjoying being out of Arkham?”

Bruce and Veronica both tensed next to her, but she was spared having to come up with an answer by the sound of someone tapping a microphone coming from the overhead speakers.  Harley looked up and belatedly realized that their table was sitting right at the edge of a dance floor, on the other side of which was a stage.  A man dressed in a bright, fancy tux was standing behind the podium, tapping the microphone gently.

“Can you all hear me?” he asked.  When people in the back gave him the thumbs up, he gave a game show host’s practiced smiled. “Excellent!  Welcome folks, to the tenth annual Wayne Foundation Charity Gala, benefiting the Gotham City Homes for Orphaned Children!”

A round of applause went up from the assembled crowd.

“My name is Aaron Jackson, and it’s a pleasure to have you all join me this evening.  Before I get started, I’d like to invite our host up to the stage to say a few words.  Please help me welcome Mr. Bruce Wayne!”

The applause turned to laughter as Bruce stood up too quickly, knocking his chair over in the process.  As he turned to try to grab it, he bumped the table, splashing their drinks over the rims of their cups.  His face was bright red as he took the stage, a bashful smile on his face.

“Thank you everyone, for coming,” he began, stuttering slightly. “It really means a lot to see you all here.  As you all know, I lost my parents when I was very young.” The crowd gradually sobered. “Now I was fortunate enough to have people with the means to look after me.  But a lot of the kids in this city aren’t so lucky.  The work our Foundation does with the Gotham City Homes for Orphaned Children mean that those kids have a roof over their heads, and people to take care of them.  The donations that generous folks like you give provide food and shelter for over five thousand children each year.  That’s five thousand children who don’t have to worry about where their next meal is going to come from.  So on behalf of the foundation, and all of those boys and girls, I want to say thank you, and please enjoy your evening!”

Harley clapped loudly along with the ballroom as Bruce came down the stage and returned to the table.  She gave him a kiss on the cheek as he sat back next to her.

Aaron Jackson resumed his place at the mic. “Thank you, folks!  We’re going to have all kinds of fantastic opportunities for you to show your generosity this evening.  For the moment though, I’d invite you all to enjoy some amazing music from the Gotham City String Quartet while we eat!”

They all applauded politely again as four musicians trooped up to the stage, taking their place next to their instruments.  A moment later, the beautiful sounds of strings began filling the ballroom.  Harley was so caught up in the music, she didn’t even notice food arriving until the salad was set down in front of her.  She was thankful she’d had Veronica refresh her on the etiquette for these kinds of dinners; there were an awful lot of utensils.

“Oh, no it’s the other fork Bruce,” Veronica said gently, leaning across Harley. “Remember, start from the outside.”

“Oh yeah.” Bruce gave another embarrassed smile. “I always forget. Thanks Veronica.”

“Do you need any help, Dr. Quinzel?” one of their tablemates said with a slight smirk. “I imagine they don’t serve many four course meals in Arkham.”

Bruce looked up, scowling, and Veronica’s mouth was agape, but before either of them could give a retort, Harley replied, “Yeah of course.  This one’s for stabbin’ people in the throat.” She pointed to the salad fork. “This one’s for gougin’ out eyeballs.” The soup spoon next. “Here’s for cuttin’ off fingers.” The steak knife. “And that’s just the dessert fork.  Now is it different here than at Arkham, or should I go with my old rules?”

Everyone at the table was looking at her in horror, albeit Bruce, Lucius, and Veronica’s was slightly different.  She looked back in defiance, not really giving a shit at the moment.

“Ha!” The explosion of laughter came from Karl Rossum, who had finally looked up from his phone and was guffawing. “Ha ha!  Now that’s more like it!  It’s about time you brought someone with a personality to one of these things, Bruce!”

Hesitantly, Bruce and Lucius joined in Karl’s laughter, and before long the whole table was chuckling along with them.  The rest of the rich assholes evidently decided it was a funny joke, as opposed to a genuine threat.  Under the cover of their amusement, Bruce gave Harley a wry look, to which she responded with an innocent smile.

Karl was now fully focused on Harley, his eyes dancing. “I hope you don’t mind me askin’ sweetheart, but the only time I met Batman I was a little distracted.  Is he really eight feet tall?”

Forcing herself not to look at Bruce, Harley said, “Actually he’s kinda little.  Maybe five feet.  He adds extra with the bat ears.”

Most of the people at the table didn’t seem to know if she was being serious or not, except for Karl, who roared with laughter again.  It became a game of sorts, with him asking ever more ridiculous questions, and Harley giving ever more ridiculous answers.

“Well, let's just say Penguin's got a few different uses for those umbrellas, if you catch my drift.”

Karl rolled around in his chair, slapping the table in mirth. “No more, no more!” he gasped. “Oh my goodness!  I haven’t had so much fun at one of these in ages!  Bruce, if you ever break up with this young lady, I swear I’ll never talk to you again!”

Bruce looked appropriately scared by the threat.  Below the edge of the table, he gave Harley’s hand a squeeze.  Karl’s joking had put the rest of the table at ease as they caught on to it.  They now bantered more easily with Harley, although they were smart enough to avoid asking any serious questions about Arkham or her criminal activities.

“I get why you don’t bring Damian to these things now,” Harley muttered to Bruce at one point. “these guys aren’t real tactful.”

“That’s actually not it,” Bruce said quietly back. “He’s surprisingly polite around company.”

“What’s the problem then?”

Bruce hesitated before saying, even more softly. “He likes to steal things.”

Harley looked at him in shock. “Why?  Is his allowance that small?”

“No, it’s not that.” Bruce smiled reluctantly. “He says its to keep his skills up.  And to gauge peoples’ reactions.  He claims it helps him assess threats, but I think he just likes watching everyone freak out.

“Thing is, people don’t always notice right away, and he doesn’t keep very good track of what he takes from who.  We can’t just ask, because it wouldn’t be good if folks found out that my son can lift a necklace right off you without you noticing.  So it gets a bit difficult figuring out who we should return some items to.”

Harley stared at him incredulously before breaking out into giggles. “I love that you spend your whole adult life fightin’ super criminals, then you end up with one as a son.”

Bruce sighed heavily. “Don’t remind me.”

After soup and salad, Aaron Jackson resumed the stage, briefly interrupting the musicians. “Alright folks, while we’re waiting for the main course, it’s time to kick off our first auction item!”

Behind him, a projector screen lit up with a picture of a car.  Unlike Bruce’s ultra modern Lambo, this one was decidedly retro, but no less glamorous for it.

“This is a pristine 1967 Chevrolet Corvette L88.  As many of you know, only twenty of these exquisite vehicles were ever made, and this one was generously donated by Mr. Karl Rossum.  We’ll start the bidding at two million dollars.  Do I have two million?”

Bruce eagerly raised his hand, but Lucius caught him and whispered in his ear.  Occupants at nearby tables chuckled lightly.

“Why did he stop you?” Harley whispered in his ear.

“Hosts aren’t supposed to bid on auction items,” Bruce whispered back, his expression chagrined again.

“Then why did you?”

“Because I’m supposed to be playing the fool,” he explained. “And Bruce Wayne is a well known car collector.”

“This is complicated.”

He sighed. “I know.”

The car ended up selling for a whopping seven million dollars, after which dinner was served.  Veronica drew Harley into conversation so she’d be spared small talk with the rest of the business people for a bit.  There was another auction before dessert, this time for an absolutely enormous diamond that Harley happened to recognize.

“Wait,” she whispered to Bruce. “Is that…?”

“Yes,” he muttered back. “They went back and dug it out of the wreckage later.”

She giggled. “Should I steal it again?”

He gave her an amused look. “Maybe not tonight.”

The diamond went for almost seventeen million, by which point Harley started to get worried for the event.  It was exactly the kind of thing that some of her old buddies would have loved to rob, and she was half-convinced Two-Face or Penguin were seconds away from bursting through the doors.  She reassured herself with the reminder that Batman was sitting right next to her in case anything did happen.

Once dessert was finished, Aaron auctioned off a genuine freakin’ Jackson Pollock that Bruce himself had donated to the event.  The bidding on that one was a little frantic, as drunk rich people tried to shout each other down, and it ended up taking more time than the previous two combined.

“Sold!” Aaron Jackson cried eventually. “To Mr. Worthington for fifty-four million dollars!”

There was a round of applause, and Worthington punched the air triumphantly.

“Ladies and gentlemen, that concludes our auction for this evening!  Once again, I’d like to thank you on behalf of the Wayne Foundation and the Gotham City Homes for Orphaned Children.  Please feel free to stick around and enjoy some drinks and music!  We have the talented DJ Knight joining us in just a few minutes!”

A cry of excitement rose from the crowd, telling Harley that whoever DJ Knight was, he must be popular.  People started rising all around them, Bruce and Lucius included.

“I have to circulate a bit and thank people,” he said quietly to Harley. “Will you be alright?”

Harley nodded bravely, trying to figure out what to say to comfort him.  Luckily Veronica took her by the arm and solved the problem for her. “I’ll take care of her.  Come on Harley, I have some people I’m dying for you to meet.”

With a reassuring smile at Bruce, she allowed herself to be led away by Veronica.  They spent the next twenty minutes or so wandering around the ballroom looking for Veronica’s friends.  The people they met were generally pleasant, although they exhibited the now familiar nervousness upon meeting Harley Quinn.  One or two had already heard some of the outrageous things she’d told Karl and made their own requests.  She obliged, recounting completely untrue, silly things about various supervillains to the amusement of all present.  Harley found this an odd activity, but figured it was better than snide remarks about her past.

When DJ Knight, an absurd looking man wearing some tacky neon version of a Batman costume, took the stage and started blasting out music, Veronica squealed in excitement.

“You absolutely have to dance with me for a bit!” Her tone brooked no argument, and Harley followed her out onto the dance floor, where they were joined by a number of the younger members of the crowd, and a few, clearly inebriated older ones as well.

This was much more to Harley’s speed.  The music was too loud for anyone to talk to her, so she could just enjoy being left alone for a moment.  Veronica had no sense of rhythm, but her enthusiasm was infectious, and the two of them danced around like fools.

Eventually she felt a tap on her shoulder and turned to see Bruce smiling at them. “Mind if I cut in?” he asked, having to shout to be heard over the noise.

Harley immediately let go of Veronica’s hands and grabbed hold of Bruce’s neck.  Veronica gave a little fake pout that quickly faded into a bright smile, and she went off in search of another dance partner.

Bruce leaned close to her ear so he wouldn't have to shout. “How are you doing?”

“Way better now that you’re back,” she replied. “You go anywhere else tonight and I’ll throw the Batmobile off a cliff.”

He chuckled. “I guess I better stay close then.  Make sure some other billionaire doesn’t steal you away.”

She snorted. “Fat chance.  You seen some of the people here?  They’d have to kidnap me to get me alone in a room with ‘em.”

“I think a few are considering it.  Do you have any idea how beautiful you look?” He drew back slightly to make a show of admiring her.

She flushed under his attention, feeling warmth spread throughout her body. “You wanna know a little secret?” she asked, lowering her voice further.

“What’s that?”

“These ain’t the only diamonds I’m wearin,’” she indicated the necklace.

He looked at her in puzzlement.  Looking around to make sure that no one was watching them, she slipped her dress open to give him a very quick peek at her breast.

Veronica had pointed out pretty quickly that Harley’s dress, despite being incompatible with a bra, still needed some coverage.  She’d blushed when Harley had said, “Too much headlights?” but agreed with the general premise.  She’d suggested tan petals to solve the problem, but Harley had other ideas.  In keeping with her outfit’s theme, she’d purchased black diamond pasties for the evening, hoping she’d get the opportunity to surprise Bruce.

And surprise him she did.  His eyes widened as she covered herself back up, giggling.  The look on his face quickly transformed into that intense, almost animalistic expression he got when he was turned on.  It made her heart race, and she knew she had to get him out of there before she completely embarrassed herself.

She leaned up to whisper in his ear again. “You know, no one’s payin’ attention right now.  They wouldn’t miss us duckin’ out for a bit.  And you got that big, cozy office just upstairs…” She trailed off suggestively.

He glanced at the crowd of dancing rich people, clearly debating the wisdom of her proposition.  She watched him eagerly as he decided he didn’t care.  With an almost wolfish grin, he said, “Let’s go.”

Trying not to betray too much eagerness, they extracted themselves from the crowd and quickly ducked out of the ballroom.  Once outside, they hurried through the deserted entry, both grinning like teenagers as they made their way to the elevator.  Harley launched herself at Bruce as soon as the doors closed.

“You know…there’s cameras…in here…too,” Bruce said in between kisses.

“So?” she replied, pausing in her attack. “If someone’s watchin’ they know what we’re doin’, don’t matter if we try bein’ coy.  But if you really want, I’ll behave til we get up there.”

His expression was conflicted.  She knew he was wrestling with his desire to remain unnoticed.

“It’s the sort of thing Bruce Wayne’d do,” she threw out teasingly.

He sighed. “Fuck it.” Grabbing her by the waist, he pulled her mouth to his.

They barely detached as the elevator opened and they made their way through his reception area.  Harley was extremely thankful that Jeremy didn’t work twenty-four seven as she pushed off his suit jacket, tossing it onto a nearby chair.

They managed to make it into the office still somewhat decent.  That changed quickly when Bruce found the clasps at the neck of her dress, pulling the straps away from her breasts.  She adored the way that he stared at her as more and more of her body was revealed.  He knelt, gently pushing the dress over her hips and pausing when he saw the minuscule black thong she was wearing underneath.

“Like it?” she asked sweetly. “I thought about goin’ commando, but figured this was the next best thing.”

He looked up at her incredulously before slipping the dress the rest of the way off.  Apparently he did like the thong, because he didn’t get up, just shoved the tiny strip of fabric aside and latched his mouth onto her pussy.

Harley gasped, not expecting him to take charge so quickly.  She parted her legs as much as possible and gripped the top of his head to keep her balance.  He feasted on her like she was the most delicious meal, causing her hips to buck and twitch. 

“Oh fuck!  Get up here!” She hauled him to his feet and kissed him some more as she tore his vest off.  The shirt followed shortly after, revealing his scarred, muscled torso. “I want you to fuck me on your desk!” she demanded.

He didn’t hesitate, picking her up and carrying her over to the massive desk.  She wrapped her legs around his waist, continuing to kiss him as hard as she could.  He set her down gently on the edge of the desk and set to work getting his pants off with her help.  As soon as she was able, she pushed his slacks and briefs over his hips and grabbed his cock.

Pumping him a couple times, she whispered, “Fuck me as hard as you can!” in his ear, before laying back on the desk and opening her legs wide.

Bruce wasted no time pushing her thong out of the way and shoving his cock inside her.  Now that they were having sex regularly she no longer needed him to go slow with her, and she moaned at being abruptly filled. 

“God, you’re so fucking tight!” he gritted out once he was fully buried in her.

She gave him a grin that was all teeth. “Havin’ trouble gettin’ that thick cock in my tight little pussy B-Man?  You gonna fuck me til I can’t take it no mor-Ahh!”

He interrupted her by thrusting sharply into her, causing her to cry out. “No fair,” she gasped. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s rude to interrupt a lady?”

He gave her a predatory smile that made her melt a little. “Sorry, I got distracted.”

“You can apologize by makin’ me come on that huge cock!” she told him.

It had always been one of Harley’s fantasies to get fucked on a desk in someone’s office, but she’d never had the opportunity to actually do it.  The only job where’d she’d ever had an office was at Arkham, and that wasn’t a place that invited friskiness. 

So laying on her back while Bruce fucked her was a hell of a turn on.  He pulled her legs up so they were resting on his shoulders, pushing his cock so deep inside her she could swear she felt it in her stomach.  His eyes were glued to her breasts as they bounced, and she gave him a show by grabbing and kneading them.  She was almost regretful that she’d worn the pasties, it would have been fun to play with her nipples a bit, but the look on his face was still well worth it.

She’d told him how much she loved that little rolling motion he did with his hips, and he wasn’t disappointing her in the slightest.  Every movement drove her closer and closer to an earth-shattering orgasm.  She reached down to play with her clit, knowing it would only take a tiny bit more stimulation to push her over the edge.

“Fuck, Bruce, I’m coming!” she cried as the pleasure overwhelmed her.  Dimly she was aware of Bruce losing control as well, and the feeling of his orgasm heightened her own.  Her fingers pressed down on her clit so hard it was almost painful, prolonging the moment as long as she could.

Bruce let her legs slip from his shoulders so he could lean down and kiss her.  She devoured his mouth hungrily, the aftershocks of her orgasm occasionally sending a little jolt through her body.

“Fuck that was good!” he breathed.

“I’ll say!” she agreed. “You gotta bring me up here more often.”

“Don’t tempt me,” he warned her.

She gave him a devilish little smile. “What, you mean you don’t want me comin’ up here on ‘business’ in a little skirt?  Sittin’ up here on the desk an’ spreadin’ my legs so you see I don’t got nothin’ on underneath.  Gettin’ down on my knees while you’re in that big comfy chair.  Makin’ you come in my mouth while you try to focus on some boring report.  You mean you wouldn’t like that?”

He groaned, and she felt him twitch inside of her. “I get it now, you _are_ trying to bring down the company.  Just through seduction."

She giggled. “You got me.  I’ve been a bad girl.  Punish me.”

He laughed and pushed himself off of her. “You’re insatiable.”

She sighed in disappointment as he pulled out. “Only cuz I like how hard you fuck me when you get all riled up.”

They started trying to sort through the discarded piles of clothing laying around the office.  One of Harley’s shoes was missing, presumably sitting in the lobby.

“There’s a bathroom over there.” Bruce pointed to a door she hadn’t noticed before. “If you need to get cleaned up.”

“Thanks,” she said gratefully.  His cum as running down her leg, not that she really minded, but it was probably best that she make herself presentable before returning to the ballroom.

She took a few minutes to make sure she was clean and presentable, reapplying her lipstick and straightening her hair.  Her thong was completely soaked through, not that there had been much of it to begin with.  She got a devilish idea and took it off before leaving the bathroom.  Bruce was busy cleaning up the mess they’d made on the desk with a little spray bottle and some wipes. 

“You, uh, do this a lot?” she asked hesitantly.

He smiled reassuringly. “I pretend to spill a lot of drinks.  Keeps up appearances.”

She shook her head. “You and you’re appearances.”

Bruce took a turn in the bathroom, giving Harley just enough time to grab her missing shoe and his coat from the lobby.  After making sure they were both presentable, they made their way back down to the ballroom.

“You think anyone noticed we were gone?” Harley asked, feeling nervous and a little excited.

“Probably not,” Bruce said. “People get pretty distracted at these thi-”

“Harley!  Bruce!  There you are!”

Veronica descended on them almost the moment they slipped through the doors.  She was flushed from dancing and swayed a little as she got near them.

“Where have you two been?  Sneaking away like that, like a pair of troublemakers.” Veronica’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “C’mon, I’m buying shots!”

Bruce and Harley exchanged a wry look as Veronica hauled them over to the expansive bar along the side of the ballroom.  A group of Veronica’s friends, plus a few extras, were waiting excitedly.

“So much for being discreet,” Bruce whispered, causing Harley to giggle.

“I know you don’t drink, Bruce, but you better join me here, Harley!” Veronica said once they got to the bar.

Harley was a little nervous.  She’d never had an alcohol problem, but she’d still mostly avoided drinking since leaving Arkham, just to be safe. “I ain’t done shots since college,” she told Veronica.

Her friend rolled her eyes. “Oh don’t be like that, it’ll be fun!”

Harley hesitated a moment longer before giving in. “Okay fine.” Quietly to Bruce, she added, “Stop me after two.  I don’t feel like throwin’ up tonight.”

The bartender lined up a row of shot glasses and poured out a very expensive looking vodka.  Veronica counted down from three and at her signal, Harley joined the crowd in tossing back the glass.  The liquor burned its way down her throat, and she shook her head at the unfamiliar sensation.  She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had something this strong.

Veronica was ‘Wooing’ loudly, many of her friends joining her as they slammed the glasses down on the bar, calling for more.

“How often do they do this?” Harley asked Bruce, coughing a bit.

He patted her gently on the back. “Every time there’s a bar.”

“And their livers haven’t fallen out yet?” she said incredulously.

Bruce grinned. “They can afford new ones.”

“Lucky I got a rich boyfriend,” she muttered, picking up her glass.

Somehow the second shot burned even more than the first.  She leaned over the bar, her eyes watering as someone tapped her on the shoulder.

“Yeah, I know, just the two,” she said, her voice raspy.  But when she turned around, the person who had tapped her wasn’t Bruce, but a middle-aged man with a confused expression.  Her boyfriend was chatting with someone just a couple feet away. “Oh, sorry, I thought you were someone else.”

“That’s alright,” the man said. “You’re Dr. Quinzel, right?”

“Yeah, that’s me,” she replied, still trying to recover from the second shot.

“Oh good,” he said, looking relieved. “I’ve been looking for you for a while.  I’m Richard Benson.”

Harley shook his hand. “Please’d to meetcha.  You own that jewelry chain, yeah?”

Benson smiled, clearly happy she’d heard of him. “That’s right.  I had a question for you, if you don’t mind?”

She steeled herself for yet another question about which supervillain was the kinkiest. “Fire away, Rich.”

But his question wasn’t what she expected. “Is your arrangement with Wayne open.”

Harley stared at him. “Excuse me?”

Benson’s expression was bizarrely earnest. “I’m just wondering if it’s an exclusive contract, or if you have room for other clients?”

She scowled as she realized that he thought Bruce had hired her as some kind of prostitute. “Oh yeah,” she said, injecting as much sarcasm into her voice as possible. “It’s totally open, whoever wants to have a go at me.”

“Oh fantastic!” he said, completely missing her tone. “I actually have a lot of friends who’d love to use your services.  We probably can’t pay as much as Wayne, but I’m sure we can be competitive.”

The vodka was telling Harley to just punch the man, but before she could act on the impulse, Bruce turned and joined their conversation. “Richard!  Good to see you, how are you?”

“I’m great, Mr. Wayne,” Benson said, shaking Bruce’s hand. “I was just chatting with Dr. Quinzel about hiring her for some freelance work.  That wouldn’t be a problem with you all, would it?” He suddenly sounded nervous.

“Not at all,” Bruce replied genially. “Are you still having trouble with your shipments?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” Benson said sadly. “We think it’s the remnants of Penguin’s old gang.  Our regular security just isn’t cutting it.”

“Well then you’ve come to the right person.” Bruce put an arm around Harley’s shoulders. “You wouldn’t believe some of the improvements she’s made.”

Benson nodded eagerly. “That’s what Lucius told me.  Can I get your card, Dr. Quinzel, so we can set up a meeting?”

Harley was just beginning to catch on with the fact that Benson wasn’t trying to hire her as a hooker, and numbly handed over one of her business cards.

“Thank you!” Benson said pocketing the card. “I’ll give you a call first thing tomorrow!”

Shaking both their hands again, Benson trotted off, leaving Harley to look at Bruce in confusion.

“What just happened?” she asked.

Bruce frowned at her. “Benson wants to hire you for some freelance security work.  He’s been having difficulty with robberies.”

“Why not just come through you guys?”

“We require a retainer to use our security services,” Bruce explained. “I doubt he could afford our prices at the moment.  Cheaper to just hire you directly for a limited term.”

“Huh.” Harley turned back to the bar, brow furrowed.

Bruce leaned up next to her. “What did you think was happening?”

“I thought he thought I was a hooker or something,” she said feeling embarrassed. “You know, like you were payin’ me to sleep with you.  He kept talkin’ about our arrangement bein’ open.”

Bruce laughed out loud. “He was asking about your contract with the company.  Remember when we hired you, we said it was a nonexclusive contract.”

“Oh.  I didn’t know what that meant.”

Bruce’s expression was fond and amused. “It means you're free to accept other contracts in addition to ours, if you want.  To be honest, I was surprised you hadn’t already.  There are plenty of other people in this city who wouldn’t mind your expertise.”

“It didn’t occur to me,” she admitted. “I figured you were the only ones who’d wanna work with me.”

“Clearly not.” Bruce waved in the direction Benson had gone. “Congratulations!  Just make sure you negotiate a good rate.”

She laughed. “Like I got a clue what I can charge.”

“Ask Lucius before you talk to Benson.  He’ll let you know.”

Harley eventually recovered from her shock enough to dance some more with Veronica and Bruce.  It was past midnight when they left, supporting a drunken Veronica between them.  Luckily she’d hired a chauffeur for the event, so they didn’t have to worry about her getting home safely.

On the way back, Harley hung her head out of the car window, enjoying the cool air on her face after the hot ballroom.  It also gave a perfect view of a nondescript silver car that kept making the same turns as them.

She drew her head back into the car briefly. “You know someone’s followin’ us, right?”

Bruce nodded. “He works for the Gotham Observer.  Probably trying to get another shot of us.”

“Think you can lose him?”

He smiled grimly. “Easily.”

The next few minutes reminded Harley of a good old-fashioned car chase, except she was riding _with_ Batman for once, as opposed to away from him.  The reporter tried, he really did, but his car was not equipped to keep up with a souped up Lambo.  Before long he vanished into the rear-view mirror, and Bruce pulled up in front of Harley’s apartment.

She leaned over and gave him a long kiss. “I had a great time tonight.”

“You’re sure?  It wasn’t too much?”

She shook her head. “A little crazy at first, but I got used to it.”

He smiled. “I’ll visit tomorrow?”

“Sounds good.” She got out of the car but paused, ducking her head down to look at him. “Check your left coat pocket.”

Frowning curiously, Bruce put his hand in his pocket.  His expression turned surprised when he pulled out her thong, which she’d slipped into his coat while he was in the bathroom.  He looked at her in shock.

She smirked back at him. “Night, night, Bruce.”


	26. Odd Pets

Taking their relationship public had its pros and cons.  On the one hand, Wayne Enterprises stock took a bit of a dip when news got out that its owner was dating a former super criminal.  Lucius wasn’t hugely concerned about that; he was sure investor confidence would bounce right back once it became clear that nothing major had changed.  In the meantime though, Jeremy was constantly fending off calls from investors in the verge of nervous breakdowns.

On the other hand, they no longer had to sneak around, worrying about hiding their relationship.  They could see one another during the day or go to dinner together and not worry about maintaining some kind of charade.  Of course, they were often tailed by paparazzi on such outings, or swarmed by crowds of gossipers, but it was the price they paid.  Luckily, being a billionaire had its perks.

Bruce had been planning a special outing with Harley ever since the lunch with Veronica and Damian in Wayne Tower, and now that they no longer had to worry about sneaking around, he could finally put it into action.

“Why’re we goin’ to the Zoo again?” Harley asked. “I come here all the time you know.”

“You’ll see,” he replied mysteriously. “I told you, it’s a surprise.”

She peered out at the empty parking lot. “Are they even open right now?”

“When you donate a few million a year, normal hours don’t really matter,” Bruce explained.

She gave him a look. “You remember what I said about peasants and revolutions, right?”

He grinned. “Trust me, you’ll enjoy this.”

A young, bored looking zoo attendant was waiting for them. “Mr. Wayne?” he said, somewhat tonelessly as they approached.

“Yeah that’s me,” Bruce answered with his best vacant billionaire smile. “Thanks so much for doing this.”

“Of course, sir.  We’re more than happy to treat our most generous donor.” The words sounded like he’d been forced to memorize them.  Bruce recognized his attitude; he’d drawn the short straw. “Please follow me.”

He took them through the mostly deserted zoo, passing the occasional worker, eventually leading them to a behind the scenes area.  They arrived at a plain grey door, and he fished out a ring of keys.

“Now I have to ask that you keep your distance.  These two are pretty well behaved, but it’s still a bit dang-”

The rest of his warning went unheard and unheeded, for the moment he opened the door, Harley let out an excited shriek of, “My babies!” before dashing right past the attendant and into the enclosure.

The poor young man’s eyes widened in shock as Harley ran straight towards the waiting hyenas. “Wait, ma’am, it’s not safe!”

But Harley paid him less than no attention, and the hyenas bounded to meet her, yelping. The zoo attendant let out a pitiful moan of fear and Bruce suppressed a laugh, knowing that he was imagining the next day’s headline. “Bruce Wayne and Girlfriend Maimed Because of Incompetent Zookeeper.”

But the hyenas didn’t attack Harley.  As she dropped to her knees, arms opened wide, they tackled her to the ground, licking her face and jumping around her excitedly.  An observer might think they were just funny looking dogs instead of vicious predators.

The young man’s expression turned astonished when he saw their behavior.  He gaped, apparently unable to form words.

Bruce patted him on the shoulder. “They’ve met.”

“Bruce get over here!” Harley called, “Say hi to Bud and Lou!”

Somewhat more cautiously, Bruce strode into the enclosure, moving a bit more slowly.  As he approached, the hyenas perked up and growled slightly.

“It’s okay,” Harley said, patting their necks soothingly. “He’s alright now, so you be nice to him.”

The hyenas appeared to consider her words before settling down.  They looked at Bruce warily and he stretched out a hand for them to sniff.  The one on the right looked back at Harley, as if to say, “Are you sure?”

“It’s fine, Lou,” she reassured the animal. “He’s real nice, you don’t gotta worry.”

The hyena, Lou, got up and cautiously sniffed at Bruce again before prodding him on the arm.

Harley giggled. “He wants you to pet him.”

Moving slowly, so as not to startle Lou, Bruce gave him a couple pats on the head.  The hyena made a strange cackling sound, and his tongue lolled out of his mouth.  Seeing that his brother was okay, Bud trotted up and let Bruce pet him as well.

“They like you,” Harley said happily. “They wouldn’t let Mistah J anywhere near ‘em for the longest time.  Didn’t care a whole lot for Ivy neither.”

The attendant came up to them, still looking shell-shocked. “How the hell are you doing that?  These are wild animals!”

Harley frowned, scratching her babies. “They’re not wild, they’re just a little rambunctious sometimes.  You just gotta know how to talk to ‘em.”

The young man sat down hesitantly near them. “Can you-can you show me?”

Harley smiled. “Sure thing.”

They spent a couple hours at the zoo while Harley played and chatted with the hyenas, taking some time to show the attendant, Greg, how to work with them more effectively.  She was reluctant to leave, and Bruce had to reassure her that they could return soon, Greg confirming that they were welcome anytime.

 Harley was crying as they got back in the car.

“Are you alright?” Bruce asked in concern.

She gave him a huge, watery smile and said, “You give the best fuckin’ presents!” before kissing him.

 ***

There were five of them, all high, and they started screaming like crazy when Bruce crashed through the front door.  This sort of reaction was becoming more and more common as the hardened thugs of old got locked up or fled for greener pastures.  Bruce often spent less time fighting than he did scrambling around and subduing intoxicated maniacs.

He wasn’t particularly gentle with this group.  Despite their cowardice at his appearance, they’d shown no similar reticence when it came to selling their drugs to children.  Or cutting and running when their meth lab caught fire, nearly burning down an entire apartment complex.  Three people had been killed in the blaze before firefighters got it under control.  So no, he didn’t mind cracking a few ribs.

Gordon and his men arrived as he was cuffing the last of them.  This was hardly the kind of sting that called for the police commissioner to be present, but Gordon scoffed at suggestions that he take the field less often.

There was more than enough evidence of the group’s wrongdoings in plain sight, but Bruce took his time combing the dilapidated warehouse, making sure that they’d found everything they could.  It was in the last room that he heard it.  He was looking over a crude chemistry set, when he heard a tiny whine from the corner.

He was at the source of the noise in an instant, expecting to see a child.  It came as a bit of a shock when it turned out to be a dog.  Not just any dog though, but the filthiest, most undernourished dog Bruce had ever seen.  It raised its head the tiniest bit and let out another pitiful noise as Bruce knelt next to it.

As far as he was able to tell, it wasn’t injured, but they’d clearly been neglecting it.  He could hardly tell what was fur and what was caked on filth.  However, it didn’t seem rabid, and let Bruce pet its head gently.

He heard Gordon enter the room and walk up next to him. “You wonder what makes people like this think they can take care of a pet.” Bruce could hear the anger in his voice.

“I’m sure they were too high to think in the first place,” Bruce growled.

“You’re probably right,” Gordon sighed. “Well, guess I’ll call animal control.”

“Wait.” A strange thought was running through Bruce’s head.  An absurd idea, but he felt compelled to act on it. “I’ll take it.  I think I know someone who wouldn’t mind a dog.”

Gordon raised his eyebrows, but Bruce had made stranger requests over the years. “If you’re sure.  Certainly saves us some trouble.”

The dog didn’t protest as Bruce carried it back to the Batmobile and gently laid it in the passenger seat.  It curled up, looking at Bruce with sad eyes.

“You’re home rather early, sir” Alfred said as Bruce pulled into the Batcave and hopped out of the car.  Damian looked up very briefly from a workbench where he was likely destroying one of Lucius’s inventions in the name of “improvement.”  Bruce put that out of his mind, resolving to deal with it later.

“I have Tim covering my route,” Bruce said, walking around to pick up his unusual passenger.

Alfred’s eyes widened when he saw the dog. “Good Lord, Master Bruce!  What is that?”

“It’s a dog,” Bruce said, somewhat defensively.

Damian’s head shot up at the mention of a dog and he quickly abandoned his project to join them.

“Are you sure?” Alfred asked, peering closely at the animal in Bruce’s arms. “Where on earth did you find it?”

Bruce walked over to the Batcave’s shower, Damian following him closely. “The drug bust earlier.  Apparently destroying childrens’ health wasn’t enough for them.”

“I should say so.” Alfred said. “And why did you not simply leave it for animal control?  Certainly they’re better equipped to handle, ah, special cases.”

Bruce felt slightly embarrassed. “I thought Harley might like a pet.”

Alfred raised an eyebrow. “I see.  You know there a far better options available at the adoption center?”

“It’s not that bad,” Bruce insisted. “Grab Ace’s old shampoo and help me out.”

The dog, who turned out to be a boy, sat patiently as Bruce, Damian, and Alfred cleaned him.  The more dirt and muck they rinsed off, the rougher he looked.  Hardly any of his fur was left, and the skin underneath was irritated and inflamed.  His ribs stood out sharply, drawing attention to how little he must have been fed.

Once they had him reasonably clean and started drying him off, Alfred looked at Bruce skeptically. “Master Bruce, far be it for me to give up on a lost cause, but are you sure this is a good idea?  Perhaps it would be better to simply put the poor creature out of its misery?”

Before Bruce could respond, Damian was on his feet, crouched defensively between Alfred and the dog.  He’d pulled a dagger from God-knew-where and was eyeing Alfred dangerously.

“I noticed you moving slowly this morning,” the boy said fiercely. “Should we put _you_ down as well?”

“Damian, put the knife away,” Bruce said wearily. “No one’s putting him down.  Not until we’ve had a chance to get him looked over by a vet.”

“Even if he is not in danger of imminent death,” Alfred replied skeptically, ignoring Damian’s threat, “he is likely to need special care.  Are you sure this is the appropriate gift for Ms. Quinzel?”

Damian had relaxed his posture, but only slightly. “If he _is_ ill, I know the location of several Lazarus Pits on the continent.”

“We’re also not taking him to a Lazarus Pit,” Bruce said firmly. “I’m not antagonizing Ra’s just to save a dog.”

Damian looked at him like he was speaking gibberish. “We would simply explain the situation to him.  He would certainly understand.”

Bruce suppressed a groan, looking away from his skeptical butler and frighteningly earnest son.  “Let’s just give him some food before we do anything drastic.”

They took the dog up to the kitchen and made him scrambled eggs.  The food seemed to rouse him, and Bruce fed him slowly, knowing it was likely his first meal in a long time.  He sat up next to the dog the rest of the night, giving him occasional sips of water and patting his head gently.  Damian attempted to stay up with them, bit drifted off in a chair sometime after midnight.

“You’ll be good for Harley, right?” Bruce said to the sad looking animal, trying to convince himself.  The dog looked up and wagged his tail ever so slightly.

Alfred joined them around sunrise. “I take it you’re still planning on going through with this?”

Bruce rubbed bleary eyes. “Yeah, I am.”

“In that case, I made an appointment with Dr. Chapman.”

“Thanks, Alfred.  See about getting Damian to bed, will you?”

“You’re not going to take him with you?” Alfred asked. “He seems rather attached to the dog.”

“Are you kidding?” Bruce responded. “And what if Chapman says he _does_ need to be put down?  I don’t feel like keeping Damian from murdering our vet this early in the morning.”

Bruce leveraged himself stiffly to his feet.  To both their surprise, the dog rose as he did, legs shaking, but more alert than they’d seen him so far.  Bruce and Alfred exchanged a bemused look.  Maybe this would end up working out.

Bruce carried the dog to the car, not wanting to overexert him.  They arrived at Bruce’s old vet’s office before it was officially open, but an assistant let him in.

“Been a while Bruce,” Dr. Chapman said as he entered the examination room. “I was pretty sure I wouldn’t see you again after Ace went.  Looks like you’ve got a hard luck case there.  Alfred said you found him on the way home?”

“That’s right,” Bruce said. “I have a friend I think would really like a dog.”

Chapman arched an eyebrow. “Do you not like this friend?”

“He’s not that bad, is he?” Bruce didn’t both trying to hide his concern.

“I guess we’ll see.”

Several hours and an absurd number of tests later, they had their answer.

“I can’t decide if this dog is lucky or not,” Chapman said, looking over his chart.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, the good news is he doesn’t have any _really_ serious issues.  The bad news is he has a _lot_ of minor ones.  He’s got mange obviously, but not the contagious kind luckily.  Heartworms too, but they’re young, and we gave him an injection that should kill them off.  He’ll still need to take medication regularly.  We also found the worst infestation of ear mites I’ve ever seen, but again, pretty treatable.  Fleas, no surprise there.  And nourishment problems, like you already knew.”

Chapman looked up at Bruce. “See what I mean?  All treatable, but it’ll be a long recovery.  He’ll need a lot of care.”

“But he’ll be okay?” Bruce asked.  He really didn’t want to give Harley a dog that would die immediately on her.

“As long as you take care of him, I don’t see why not.”

 ***

Bruce stood on the sidewalk outside Harley’s apartment, phone to his ear.

“Hey Bruce, what’s up?”

“I’m outside.  Do you have a minute?”

“Sure!  Come on in.”

He hesitated. “Actually, do you mind coming down.  I have something for you.”

She gave a fake, exasperated sigh. “Okay fine, but this better be good.”

A minute later, Harley emerged from the building looking put out. “Alright, what is it?  You get me a car?  Cuz you know my traffic record wasn’t great _before_ I became a criminal, right?”

He smiled nervously. “No, nothing like that.  Here, I’ll show you.” He opened the passenger door of his car to reveal the stray dog he’d rescued.

A couple weeks had worked wonders on the dog.  He was much more mobile, although he got tired quickly.  Regular meals had put some weight back on him, and while his fur had only just started growing back, Dr. Chapman assured Bruce it wouldn’t be long.  He looked at Harley and Bruce with alert, curious eyes and thumped his tail against the seat.

“I got you a dog.  He doesn’t have a name yet, but he’s well behaved.  I found him in a drug den, and I thought he could use a good home.”

He watched Harley nervously, not at all sure how she’d respond to such a gift.  Alfred was slightly less skeptical than at the start, but he still pointed out that this was hardly the sort of dog one normally gave to a significant other.  Bruce agreed, but he had an intuition that it would be just the kind of dog Harley would like.  Now that he was standing here though, he was having second thoughts.

Harley looked, wide eyed at the dog, then at Bruce, then back to the dog. “He’s…he’s for me?”

“If you want him,” Bruce hurried to say. “If you don’t feel up to taking care of a dog right now, it’s fine.  He’ll need some extra attention at first, he had a few health conditions.  There are some medications, check ups, things that like.  I’ve paid for it all already, of course.”

Harley knelt on the ground and hesitantly extended a hand. “Hey there.  You wanna come on out, boy?”

The dog hopped out of the car and walked up to Harley.  He sniffed her lightly before licking her face in a friendly sort of way.  Harley promptly wrapped her arms around his neck and laughed happily.

“You like him?” Bruce asked.

She looked up at him, beaming. “He’s perfect!  Aren’t you,” she said, letting go to scratch the sides of the dog’s head with both hands. “You’re a perfect little boy, aren’t you?”

The dog panted and wagged his tail happily.

“You know,” Harley said, wrapping her arms around the dog again. “You don’t gotta keep doin’ stuff like this.  I was already sleepin’ with you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I desperately wanted to write this chapter much earlier in the story, but I forced myself to wait until it felt more appropriate for the characters. Harley's babies are so central to her character in my mind, and while I couldn't justify her wandering the streets with hyenas, I knew almost immediately that she needed some kind of companion. And I hope you, like me, feel that she wouldn't want just any normal, well bred dog.


	27. Movin' On Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there! I'm still alive, for anyone who was worried, and I haven't abandoned this story. Things have just been particularly insane irl lately, and I haven't had a spare second for writing. I hope you all enjoy this chapter, and I'll try to get another one to you soon!

The sound of arguing brought Bruce up short just as he was about to pull himself through Harley’s window.  He paused, paying closer attention in case she was in trouble.  The idea that one her old associates might figure out where she lived and come calling kept him up some nights.  But the argument didn’t sound violent.

Yet.

“…ain’t ever met you before,” Harley was saying heatedly. “I’m payin’ month to month, now you just walk on in like you own the place?”

“I _do_ own the place,” a rough male voice replied. “And I’m tellin’ you, no dogs!”

“That’s bullshit!  There’s at least _three_ meth labs in this place, and my _dog’s_ the thing you got a problem with!”

“I don’t like dogs,” the man said obstinately. “And seein’ as you didn’t wanna sign a lease…” He trailed off delicately, as if to imply it was her own fault.

Bruce heard Harley growl in frustration. “Fine!  How long I got?”

“I could probably give you a week.  Unless you wanted to come to another arrangement.” The man’s voice turned lascivious but was followed a moment later by a howl of pain.  Bruce recognized the distinctive crunching noise of an expertly applied elbow lock.  The door opened, and Bruce heard Harley throw the man physically across the hall.

“You bitch!  I swear, I’ll-”

What exactly the crooked landlord swore he’d do, Bruce never learned, because Harley slammed the door shut.  Figuring it was safe for him to enter, he leveraged himself through the window.

Harley was pacing the small apartment, looking furious and muttering to herself.  The dog whose presence had apparently caused so much trouble was looking at her in concern from the bed.  When he saw Bruce enter the apartment, he thumped the bed excitedly with his tail. 

“You hear all that?” Harley asked, still pacing.

“Enough,” Bruce said, pulling off the cowl. “They’re kicking you out?”

“Can you believe it?” she burst out angrily. “It’s a run down piece of shit building in the Narrows, and he don’t allow dogs?!  I saw two people fucking in the stairwell the other day!  Didn’t even stop when I walked by!  But _Charlie’s_ the thing he’s got a problem with?!”

Charlie perked up at the sound of his name and she flopped down on the bed and wrapped an arm around him.  Bruce had refrained from naming the dog, figuring Harley should have that honor.  She’d decided on Charlie, after Charlie Chaplin; her logic being that he hardly ever barked.

“Don’t worry about it, baby, we’ll find a better place.  Maybe leave a little present for that asshole before we go.”

“I hope you’re not thinking of anything too severe,” Bruce said cautiously.  Harley had handled freedom remarkably well, but that didn’t mean she still wasn’t susceptible to bad triggers.

“I wasn’t gonna bomb him or nothin,’” Harley reassured him. “I just thought maybe I’d have Charlie take a crap on his bed or somethin.””

Bruce smiled. “Just checking.”

Harley sighed, some of the anger leaking out of her posture. “Well, guess I’m upgradin.’  Wasn’t really expectin’ to move this soon.  What are the odds of me findin’ a place by the end of the week?”

Bruce pulled a chair over to the bed and scratched Charlie behind the ears. “Depends on where you’re looking.  Most places require a credit check and inspection.  Longer for people with criminal backgrounds.  You usually have to get a letter from your corrections officer and current employer.”

“Which takes longer than a week I bet,” Harley said irritably. “I guess I could ask if Veronica’d let me stay with her again for a bit.”

“She allergic to dogs.”

Harley laughed. “Course she is.  Who’d’ve thought gettin’ a dog’d make life so complicated?”

“Sorry,” Bruce apologized.

“Don’t be.  Charlie here’s worth a little trouble, ain’t you boy?” Charlie looked up at Harley with a wide doggie smile. “We’ll just have to figure somethin’ out.”

“You could stay with me,” Bruce suggested softly.

Harley looked at him. “As a temporary thing?”

He shrugged. “If you’d prefer.  Or it could be permanent.” He’d been thinking about it for a while, and there seemed like no better time to bring it up, now that the opportunity had presented itself.

“That’s a pretty big step,” Harley pointed out, but her expression was speculative.

“It is,” he acknowledged. “But I told you at the start I was committed to this, and I haven’t changed my mind.  The way I see it, we’re heading that direction at some point, so why not now?”

He took her hand. “If you need time to think about it, or you don’t feel ready for that, I’d understand.  But I want you to know the option’s on the table, if you want it.”

He fell silent, allowing Harley some time to process his offer, waiting with bated breath for her response.

 ***

Harley stared at Bruce, her mind racing with a million thoughts and feelings.  She desperately wanted to accept his offer.  She knew she loved him, and he was right, the way they were headed, moving in together was inevitable.  Why not now, rather than later?

But the coldly rational part of her brain, the part that she and Dr. Leland had spent three years training in harsh, uncompromising self-awareness, knew how much of a mistake it would be to leap without looking.  She had almost destroyed her life more than once by not thinking through the consequences of her actions.

“Maybe we outta talk about a few things first,” Harley said delicately, not wanting to hurt Bruce’s feelings.

He took it well though. “What were you thinking?”

Harley took a deep breath. “Well, like you said, we’re headed that direction, but it’d still be a pretty big change.  I got a few concerns.”

“Like what?”

“For starters, I’m not sure how I feel about bein’ alone in that big ol’ house most nights,” she said. “Place kinda feels like a mausoleum when you’re not around.”

“You won’t be alone all the time; Alfred’s there most nights.  And Damian too,” Bruce pointed out.

Harley made a face. “Your butler dad’s got better things to do than keep me company every day.  And Damian still scares the livin’ crap outta me.”

“That’s probably smart,” Bruce agreed.

“It’s not like I mind bein’ alone,” Harley elaborated. “I just feel weird bein’ by myself in that place.”

Bruce looked pensive. “Is there anything we could do to make you more comfortable in the manor?”

She thought about it. “Well, it’d help if it felt a little more like you, instead of some generic billionaire mansion.”

Bruce looked like he was problem solving. “What if you redecorated?  I’m not attached to much of anything, most of it’s for show.  You could make it feel more comfortable?”

 “That’s an idea,” Harley responded, getting some inspiration. “But I don’t wanna do it all by myself.  If we’re gonna redecorate a whole mansion, I want your help.”

That seemed to make Bruce a little uncomfortable. “I’m not sure how much help I’d be.”

“It’ll be fine,” she reassured him. “Couples do this together all the time.  It’ll be fun.”

He still looked nervous but nodded in agreement. “Alright.  What else are you worried about?”

“I wanna make sure I’ll still see you,” she continued. “You spend a lotta time visitin’ me right now, and I don’t want that to change if we’re livin’ together.”

“We could work up a schedule?” Bruce suggested. “Days where I go on patrol a little later, or we have dinner or lunch together.  Obviously, some days we’d need to be flexible, but it’d be similar to what we’re doing now.”

“Yeah I like that,” Harley said.  Lists and schedules had been a big part of her work with Dr. Leland.  Structure suited her well. “I also wanna okay it with Barbara and Tim and everyone first.”

Bruce considered the request. “No.”

His response surprised her. “How come?  Shouldn’t they get a say?”

“Not in this,” Bruce said. “I’ll tell them, but who I live with is my business at this point.  Besides, you already have access to the cave and our security systems.  Where you live hardly changes that.”

“What about Damian?  Is it gonna be weird for him if I just move in?”

Bruce let out a bark of laughter. “His mother was part of a centuries old brotherhood of assassins, and his father is a billionaire who fights super criminals.  I think he’ll adjust.”

She hadn’t expected him to take such a firm line, but she wasn’t unhappy with it. “Fair enough.  Last thing then.  You gotta get a new mattress.”

He raised his eyebrows. “What, why?”

“Cuz I feel like I’m sleepin’ on a wooden board,” she said apologetically. “I thought a fancy guy like you would have a soft, cushy mattress.”

“I used to,” he admitted. “Before Bane.  I need more back support now.”

She winced. “Probably shoulda guessed that.  We could get one of them sleep number beds they’re always talkin’ about on TV?  Might have to do somethin’ custom for a frame that size, but I got a feelin’ you can afford it.”

Bruce cracked a slight smile. “I think we can manage that.  Anything else?”

Harley thought about it. “Nope, if you’re good with all that, I’d love to live with you, Bruce.  Unless you changed your mind.”

His smile widened considerably. “Of course not.”

She jumped up eagerly and gave him a kiss.  Now that she’d been good and responsible, she could relax and let her excitement show through.  She was going be living with Bruce!  Part of her almost wanted to go thank her creep landlord for giving her this opportunity.

“I guess I better get packing!” she said eagerly, looking around at her apartment.

Bruce rose with her. “I can give you some help tomorrow.  I need to get back on patrol right now.  Will you be alright with your landlord?  He sounded angry.”

Harley laughed. “Nah, he’s a pushover.  I don’t think he recognized me, but he used to work for Two-Face.  No idea how he ended up bein’ a slumlord, but he’s all show.  Used to run away anytime there was a fight.”

Bruce got a speculative look in his eye. “Good to know.”

 ***

Harley took the next few days off to get her apartment all packed up, but it ended up not taking that long.  Most of what she owned were books and clothes.  She’d decided to just leave her furniture and kitchen utensils, seeing as Bruce had far better pots and pans.  Aside from a couple items with some sentimental value, like the mug Bruce used for tea or the takoyaki pan, she left the rest for her landlord to deal with.

Bruce’s idea of help turned out to be a couple of very large, yet surprisingly courteous movers who loaded up her boxes into the back of a van while Bruce and Harley watched.

“So, what?  You only lift boxes if you get to throw ‘em at people?” Harley muttered at one point, feeling awkward.

Bruce maintained a dignified silence.

Just as they were almost finished packing up the apartment, Harley’s phone went off.  She sighed when she saw who it was from.

“It’s Jackson Robotics,” she said with a frown.

“Is that one of your new contracts?” Bruce asked.

“Yeah.  Guess I can’t ignore this one.” She sighed and answered the phone.

Bruce and the moving men finished loading the last of the boxes while she spoke with the company’s head of security.  She rejoined them a moment later, frowning.

“Anything wrong?” Bruce inquired with a look of concern.

“I’m not sure,” Harley replied slowly. “They just had a break in attempt.  Guy almost made it through all the new security.”

“Did they catch him?”

“Yeah, but here’s the weird part.  He’s askin’ for me.”

Bruce’s eyebrows shot up. “Asking for you?  By name?”

“Sorta.  He’s askin’ for Harley Quinn.” Harley looked at Bruce in a bit of concern. “It don’t seem like that’s a coincidence, but I can’t match their description to any of the old crew.”

“It could be someone else,” Bruce threw out. “Maybe someone you and Joker held up at some point?”

“Maybe,” she said, not at all convinced. “Thing is, I really beefed up that place.  I mean like fortress style.  They paid real good and I pulled out all the stops.  I got a hard time seein’ some normal guy makin’ it that far.”

“You’d be surprised how determined some people in this town can get,” Bruce replied grimly. “Do you want to head over right now?”

“Yeah, I suppose,” she said, feeling some trepidation. “What about the moving guys?”

“Alfred can supervise.  This sounds important.”

The movers were unphased by the change of plans, especially when Bruce handed them a tip worth more than the contents of the whole van.  Harley had them take Charlie as well, not wanting to put her precious baby in potential danger.  She knew she was being paranoid, but she had few enough good things in her life to risk any of them.

The drive over to Jackson Robotics headquarters was silent and tense.  Harley was busy trying to remember every villain she’d ever met, no matter how unimportant, and match them to the description she’d been given over the phone.  By the time they arrived she’d had no luck and was becoming more and more apprehensive.  Whoever it was had been able to make it through several layers of the most complex defenses money could buy, and apparently she had no idea who it was.

A huge crowd of evacuated employees were milling around the outskirts of the building, looking disgruntled.  Bruce and Harley approached the police line, where the head of Jackson Robotics security was waiting for them, fidgeting anxiously. 

“Thank God you’re here,” he said, almost melting with relief when he saw Harley. “We can’t figure out what he wants.  He didn’t take anything or hurt anyone, but he almost made it to the new prototypes before we picked him up.”

Harley was unused to people being happy to see her but tried to take it in stride. “And he asked for me specifically?”

The man nodded. “By name.  Well, old name.  The police wanted to take him to back to the precinct, but he said it’d be a mistake to move him before he got to see you.  He might be bluffing, but obviously we can’t take the chance that he didn’t tamper with something that we didn’t catch.”

“Course.  Better safe than sorry.  Guess I should see him then.”

Bruce tried to follow them past the police barricade but was stopped by a uniformed officer. “I’m sorry sir, but only authorized personnel are allowed inside at the moment.”

Harley looked back, feeling slightly alarmed that Bruce wasn’t allowed in with her.  He looked similarly put off, as if he’d forgotten he wasn’t wearing a cowl at the moment.  She watched his eyes flick around, as if assessing infiltration points, but he managed to restrain himself, giving her a terse nod.  She tried to smile reassuringly, but the whole thing was a lot more nerve-wracking without him there.

The security chief lead her several floors up, and through a maze of laboratories until they reached a windowless office that had been hastily converted into a makeshift interrogation room.  They paused briefly outside.

“So, he should be safe,” the chief told her. “We searched him for weapons and didn’t find anything.  But all the same, you probably want to keep your distance, just in case.”

Harley nodded and took a deep breath. “Let’s do this.”

The chief opened the door, revealing an austere grey room whose only occupants were a small man seated in a simple plastic chair, flanked by two more police officers.  The intruder looked up as Harley entered, watching her movements steadily.  Harley took a moment to study him closely, taking in every detail of his appearance, from the wild mane of grey hair and thick beard, to the baggy, nondescript clothes that concealed a surprisingly slim figure.  The little bit of his skin she could see was wrinkled with age, but something about the man didn’t convey frailty to her.  His bright blue eyes were far too aware, and he’d gotten through most of her security.

She’d been hoping that seeing him up close would trigger some recollection, but no such luck.  While there was a slight sense of familiarity, she couldn’t place the man’s face among the myriad of criminals she’d met over the years.

Belatedly, she realized that he was studying her with the same intensity she had him.  She folded her arms across her chest and tried to look unconcerned. “They say you wanted to see me.”

The little man considered her a moment longer. “I did.” His voice was quiet and measured, with an accent she couldn’t quite place. 

“Any particular reason?” she prompted, when he didn’t elaborate.

“It was a test.” Something about his voice pinged in her brain, but she couldn’t place it.

“A test for who?”

Those intense eyes seemed to dance with amusement. “You.”

The sense of familiarity grew, but her brain still couldn’t supply her with a memory to match. “Why’re you testin’ me?”

For the first time, he looked away from her, glancing at the officers around him. “I have my reasons.”

Harley was starting to get irritated.  The days when she’d have enjoyed this kind of vague banter were long past her. “You feel like sharin’ a couple?  Cuz I got places to be, believe it or not.  Some of us don’t just go breakin’ into robotics labs cuz we’re bored.”

“I am not bored.” The man’s tone was almost offended. “I have a personal, vested interest in your capabilities.  This was simply the most efficient way to assess them.”

Harley squinted at the calm, slim figure.  Something about the precise, measured way he spoke was setting off bells in her head.  As was the way he was sitting in that ordinary plastic chair, back straight as a line, cuffed hands clasped in his lap.  It was almost…regal.

“Hey, could I get a minute alone with him?” she asked.

The officers exchanged an uncertain look.  The one on the right spoke. “I’m not sure that would be the safest idea, Dr. Quinzel.”

“I think I can take him if he tries something,” she said.

“No, um, that’s not – I mean…” the cop coughed gently. “That is to say, we weren’t concerned for _your_ safety so much, if you see what I mean?”

Harley caught on and smiled a bit ruefully. “Trust me, I’m way past those days.  I ain’t gonna hurt him unless he tries something.”

The cop looked to the security chief, who was evidently quite willing to trust Harley completely.  She and the little old man watched as they marched out of the office.  Once the door closed, Harley turned back to the intruder.

“Damian?” she said tentatively, bending down to look him in the face. “Is that you?”

The grey beard curled up as the mischievous youth underneath it smiled.  Slipping the cuffs off as though they’d been open the whole time, he carefully peeled the wrinkled prosthetics off his face, followed soon by the grey wig and fake beard.  There was a little mechanical cylinder on the inside of the beard that she assumed had been modifying his voice.  Finally, he stood briefly and pulled off his boots, revealing lifts that added a few inches.  Once freed of his disguise, he looked up at Harley with a smug expression.

She let out a breath she hadn’t even known she was holding.  Some of the tension left her as she realized that a new supervillain hadn’t set his sights on her.  It was just Bruce’s son.  Bruce’s scary, ninja-trained, pitiless son.

Maybe the supervillain would have been better.

“What the hell are you doing?” she hissed at the young man. “Breakin’ in here like this?  You coulda been seriously hurt!”

“Please don’t insult me.” Damian was derisive. “These incompetent fools would have been far more likely to injure one another before putting a scratch on me.”

“Yeah, I caught that,” Harley said angrily. “I wasn’t talkin’ about them.  I was talkin’ about the door you were tryin’ to get through when they caught you.  I’m guessin’ you figured out the biometric gates?”

“Of course.”

“And the hexadecimal passcode?”

“Easily.”

“What about the electric floor grate?”

“I – ” For the first time since she’d met him, Damian looked surprised. “No.  I missed that one.”

“You were supposed to,” Harley said. “The hexadecimals were a distraction.  They activate the door _and_ a ten-million-volt panel right in front of the door.  If they hadn’t caught you when they did, you’d be a soot stain on the floor right now.”

Damian turned a couple shades paler and gulped visibly. “That seems…excessive.”

“You know the kinds of crazy people we get around here.  They wanted somethin’ that could stop a giant crocodile man.” She ran a hand through her hair. “Jesus Damian, what the hell were you thinkin?!”

“As I said, I was testing you,” Damian said, pulling together some of his old composure. “I was aware that you now handle security for many companies in this city.  I wished to assess your skills for myself.”

“Why, lookin’ to hire me?” Harley asked sarcastically.

“No, but my father clearly is,” Damian replied. “After today, you will be living with us permanently.  I’m sure you aware of the risks involved in association with our family.  I thought it prudent to test whether you were capable of handling such challenges.  Clearly you are.”

For some reason, that just made Harley angrier.  She crouched down so she could look Damian straight in the eye, her expression hard as granite. “Let’s get somethin’ straight between you and me kid.  I get you were raised by scary assassins and immortal pricks, but you better not think for one second you got a clue about how scary the world really is!”

She leaned closer to him. “I spent ten years runnin’ through this town with the kinds of sadists they write books about.  I’ve seen guys get beaten, mauled, stabbed, shot, drowned, and all sortsa things in between.  I’ve dosed people with toxins that’ll make you laugh so hard your ribs shatter and your heart explodes.  That crocodile man I told you about?  He’s an old friend, and I’ve seen him rip people’s limbs right off like they were twigs.

“This is _my_ city!  You don’t get to waltz on in here and act like _you_ get to test _me_!  So if you got a problem with me bein’ with your old man, you come and talk to _me_ about it, you don’t try this tricky heist shit.  Cuz I’ll tell you somethin’ kid, you aren’t playin’ anywhere near in my league.  Got it?”

For once looking like that child he was, Damian nodded mutely.

Harley smiled cheerily at him. “Good!  Now let’s get this all sorted out.”

Marching over the door, she opened it, startling the officer who’d been attempting to eavesdrop at the keyhole. “Hey!” she said brightly to the assembled group. “Can one of you go out front and get Bruce Wayne?”

They looked at each other and her in confusion. “Why?” one ventured to ask.

“Cuz I got his son right here.” Harley opened the door wider to show Damian, disguiseless. “He’ll probably want to have some words with him.”

The security chief went white as a sheet of paper at the revelation that Bruce Wayne’s son was being his detained in one of his offices, and practically ran to go fetch him.

Bruce showed up a moment later, his public face cracking at the seams from concern.  But his serious expression transformed to incredulity once he saw his son in his old man disguise.

It took them a little longer to sort everything out.  Harley, looking appropriately chagrined, explained that she must have mentioned a couple of the security upgrades she’d been working on with Bruce and Damian at some point.  Bruce told the officers how much his son loved seeing new types of technology, mentioning his internship with Lucius, and must have just gotten a little too enthusiastic.  Damian’s apology was slightly lacking, but he did still look slightly subdued, and that helped.  The security chief was more than happy to get on Bruce Wayne’s good side by agreeing that the whole thing was just a big misunderstanding and declined to press charges.  Bruce brought the car around the back of the building so they wouldn’t be seen exiting, and they sped back to the Manor.

Bruce was ominously silent, his face as still as a slab of granite, knuckles white on the wheel.  Damian was similarly quiet in the backseat, and Harley wasn’t inclined to try to break the tension.  She’d said her piece; it was now up to Bruce to deal with his son’s actions.

There was no sign of the moving van when they rolled up to the mansion, and Harley assumed they’d already finished unloading all of her things.  She felt like she was a part of some kind of funeral procession with how morose and silent they all were. 

Alfred was ready to greet them as they entered the kitchen from the garage, Charlie sitting happily next to him. “Hello Master Bruce, Miss Quinzel.  The movers indicated that you had been delayed and – ah, I see you have Master Damian with you.”

“Yes we do.” Bruce strode over to stand next to Alfred, the two of them looking at Damian like inspectors. “Damian, why don’t you explain what you were doing to me and Alfred?”

Assuming a posture like he was a soldier being debriefed, Damian gave a thorough, emotionless recounting of his decision to test Harley’s work as a security consultant, including how he’d managed to procure a disguise and infiltrate Jackson Robotics.  Harley, who wasn’t sure what part she was supposed to play in this little interrogation, sat on a counter off to the side of the main action.  She thought about asking Bruce or Alfred where her stuff had been deposited so she might leave and start unpacking, but they were both fixated with laser-like intensity on the misbehaving youth in front of them.

When Damian was finished with his accounting, Alfred looked so aghast that Harley had to cover her mouth to stifle a giggle.  For his part, Bruce was looking at his son with the sort of stern expression that would have made Harley shrink into a corner.  But Damian met his gaze steadily, apparently perfectly calm.

When Bruce finally spoke, his voice was measured, but it carried a heavy weight of disapproval. “I’m very disappointed in you, Damian.  You know perfectly well that this kind of behavior is not acceptable.  Ra’s and Talia may have tolerated you treating the world as your playground, but I do not.”

Damian nodded stiffly, still expressionless.

Bruce let out a heavy sigh. “Here’s your punishment then.  You have one week to write a five-thousand-word essay explaining why what you did was wrong.  With full references.”

Harley frowned in surprise, but Damian didn’t even blink. “Am I allowed to choose the citation format.”

“No.  Use APA.”

For the first time, Damian looked slightly distressed.  Harley couldn’t blame the kid, but he took it better than she would have. “Very well, Father.  If that is all, I’ll begin working.”

Bruce nodded and Damian spun around, departing the kitchen.  Once he was gone, Bruce slumped against the island, rubbing the bridge of his nose.  Even Alfred looked unusually weary as he went back to preparing dinner.  Belatedly, Bruce seemed to remember that Harley was with them.

“I’m really sorry,” he said, looking up at her. “He seemed to take it well when I told him you were moving in, and it’s been a while since he pulled something like that.  I didn’t think I needed to worry.”

Harley shrugged. “No harm done.  But if you don’t mind me bein’ nosy, what the hell kinda punishment was that?”

Bruce let out a huff of laughter. “Ridiculous, isn’t it?  Believe it or not, it’s the most effective way I’ve found to modify his behavior.  I can’t figure out what he likes, so I can’t take away toys, ground him, or anything like that.  But he responds well to assignments.  It gives him a chance to learn about regular social interactions and expectations.  He seems to respect formal research.”

“A little weird, but I guess I get it,” Harley said. “Didja have to make him use APA though?  That seemed a bit cruel.”

“It was supposed to be a punishment,” Bruce pointed out.

“Yeah, but there’s punishment, and then there’s just torture,” Harley muttered, making Bruce laugh a little. “Anyway, I should probably start unpackin.  Where’d all my stuff end up?”

“Clothes are in the bedroom, books should be in the library.”

Harley looked at him in confusion. “You sure you want all my ratty books takin’ up space with your fancy Plato?”

Bruce just smiled at her. “You don’t have to worry about that.  Come on, I’ll show you.”

Harley wondered if that meant he’d converted one of the other rooms into a library just for her, but he took them to the original one.  The moment he threw open the doors, she gasped.  Where once the shelves had been filled from floor to ceiling with old, fancy look titles that no one bothered to read, now there was nothing but empty bookcases.

“Oh my God!” she exclaimed, staring around at the bare room, “tell me ya didn’t just get rid of ‘em?  I mean, I know I made fun of some of ‘em, but there were a lot of first editions in here!”

“They’re not gone,” Bruce reassured her. “But you were right, no one was reading them.   You gave me an idea though; someplace that might appreciate them more.  So I lent the collection to Gotham State University.  It’ll be part of a new wing at the college library, where the students can use them for research.  If we ever want them back it won’t be a problem, but in the meantime, I thought you could make the library a little more readable.”

Harley looked at the room, bigger than her whole apartment, imagining the sheer volume of novels she could fill it with. “You really don’t mind me puttin’ all my trashy paperbacks in your ritzy library?”

“It’s yours now too,” Bruce said. “And frankly, I wasn’t really using it before.  At least now someone can.”

“Well I certainly ain’t gonna object,” Harley said excitedly. 

She spent a little while unpacking and organizing her books, planning out how she’d divide up sections and genres.  Once she was momentarily satisfied with her organizing, she wandered into the bedroom to start taking her clothes.

At first she thought she’d gotten the wrong room.  Everything was stripped bare except for the blinds.  The curtains, decorations, carpets, everything, was all gone except for a couple dressers.  The walls were now a simple white, and she could smell the fresh paint.  Even the mattress was uncovered, although Alfred was arranging a few carefully folded sheets and comforter sets at the foot.  It had all the look of a room that no one was living in, and if it hadn’t been for the boxes of her clothing, she’d have thought no one was using it.

“Oh my God!” she said again. “What the hell happened in here?”

Alfred looked up from his work. “Master Bruce indicated that the two of you were planning to redecorate.  Is that not the case?”

“No that’s right,” Harley said, some of the shock wearing off. “I just didn’t think he’d jump on it so fast.”

Alfred smiled. “He rarely wastes time.  The night he told me you would be moving in, he immediately began packing everything up.”

“Guess I shoulda expected that,” she muttered. “I’m bettin’ that’s the new mattress then?”

“It is indeed.  I was just preparing some options for bedspreads.  I’ll allow you a few moments to settle in.”

He left the room just and Harley wandered over to the bed to have a look at the sheets.  They were all light as silk of course, probably with a thread count through the roof.  She was debating between the red and purple when Bruce came in, Charlie trotting along at his heels.

“Alfred said I gave you a bit of shock,” he remarked.

“Just surprised me is all,” she said. “You didn’t tear down the Batcave, didja?”

He chuckled. “No, it’s still there.  I do have one more little surprise for you though, if you’re up for it.”

Harley felt a bit of trepidation; he was seriously going overboard.  But then, she probably should have expected that. “I guess we should get it all out of the way at the start, right?”

Bruce led her to the adjoining study, a room she’d glanced at previously, but never spent much time in.  She recalled there being a desk, a couple chairs, and not much else.  Bruce mentioned he preferred the downstairs study with the entrance to the Batcave.

Now though, the room looked like a nerd’s ultimate dream.  One of the biggest TVs Harley had ever seen dominated one wall.  A surprisingly sleek, well organized entertainment center sat underneath it, laden with more video game consoles and equipment than Harley knew existed.  Shelves on either side of the TV displayed a thoroughly ridiculous set of game cases.  A little ways back was a comfy looking couch, and a variety of different chairs.  In all, it was the kind of space that some of Harley’s old gamer friends would have killed for.

“I got the impression you used to be into video games,” Bruce said, watching her reaction closely. “I thought maybe you’d enjoy picking it back up as a hobby.  Since I won’t always be here at night.”

“Oh my God,” Harley whispered, this time in awe.

Bruce’s expression was nervous and uncertain. “Is it too much?”

She looked up at him, wide eyed. “Hell no.  Matter of fact, I might not even need you around at all if I got this.”

He smiled. “I wanted you to feel at home.”

Harley wrapped him in a hug. “You don’t do anything halfway, do you Bruce?”


	28. Harley in Charge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I figure I should try updating as much as possible while I have a spare second, so here's a new chapter!

Bruce was reconsidering all the decisions he’d made in his life as Harley marched him down the Wayne Manor staircase to the applause of their assembled guests.  Every step he took, he struggled to reign in the impulse to blow the entire mansion sky high.  Harley, meanwhile, was waving and grinning like a maniac.

Which, he realized a little belatedly, she was.

It had all started as they approached the end of the renovations.  The process had taken far longer than it should have, given that neither money nor labor were issues for them.  The hang up had instead been Bruce’s inability to contribute in any meaningful way.

He was trained in the most sophisticated techniques of criminal psychology, sociology, and forensics.  He had studied advanced chemistry, biology, engineering, and almost singlehandedly built one of the most sophisticated computer systems known to man.  He was a master of over a dozen different forms of hand to hand combat.  He spoke ten languages with perfect fluency, and another six with a fair bit of competency.  He was, without false modesty or arrogance, one of the most brilliant men on the planet.

Absolutely none of this helped him with interior decorating.

The problem wasn’t some sort of fragile, macho thing, like he didn’t think guys should care about the shade of the curtains.  Nor was it an inability to understand how colors, fabrics, and furniture went together.  In fact, having already turned the manor into a gaudy, over the top insult to good taste, he was actually pretty good at figuring out what things went well together.  Or didn’t, as the case was.

It was just that he didn’t care.

Or perhaps, not that he didn’t care, but that it was all somewhat the same to him.  The idea of the manor being decorated a bit more tastefully was a welcome one, but the exact nature of that change mattered very little.  Any one design was as good as another.  The only thing that really mattered was that Harley liked it.

Unfortunately, Harley wanted _him_ to like it too.  More than just like it, she wanted it to feel like a place he’d helped create. 

The issue was, he hadn’t.  The manor had been owned by Patrick Wayne, his grandfather, who was a man of…eccentric interests.  Thomas Wayne and his wife Martha had preferred to live on their own, and while Bruce had been born in the manor by a simple accident of timing, he had spent most of his early years in a lavish penthouse not far from the hospital where Thomas worked.  He visited the manor often, but it was too strange to feel like home, and his parents quietly agreed.  Bruce was eight when Grandpa Patrick died, leaving the estate to Thomas, who promptly tore the place down to the studs, donating the ultra-garish modern art and furnishings to charity.  Although Bruce had been too young to care, he remembered his parents poring over design plans late into the night, excitedly discussing the changes they would make.

Then, three months later, they were murdered in an alley while Bruce looked on in horror.

Afterwards, no matter how much Alfred tried, Bruce was never able to see the manor as anything other than an empty mausoleum, whose existence was a reminder of the constant presence of death in his life.  For a while, he entertained ideas of simply burning the place down once he was older.

His feelings had mellowed slightly by the time he returned to Gotham, but he was saved having to figure out what to do with the empty mansion by the needs of his Bruce Wayne persona.  He made the manor reflect the irresponsible, tasteless buffoonery of his public appearance.  Because in the end, the Wayne mansion was, like everything else, simply a tool for his alter ego.  The only place he truly felt at home anymore was the Batcave.

But things were different now.  This was no longer a convenient place to rest, eat meals, and distract people who might otherwise be suspicious of his many sudden disappearances.  Now, it was the home of the woman he loved.  And she wanted it to feel like theirs.  Not his, not hers, but _theirs_.

He tried, but no matter what he did, paint just looked like paint.  It evoked nothing else in him.

Damian was no help either; he insisted that such decisions were beneath them, and they paid people to do this sort of thing.  His few serious suggestions involved putting a stuffed woolly mammoth carcass on display, or other such absurd ideas.  Harley made the mistake of asking him how he even had access to a woolly mammoth and four hours later, she and Bruce decided it was best if Damian wasn’t involved in the process.

Which left them back where they were, at the strangest, least contentious impasse he’d ever heard of.  One of them unable to contribute, the other unwilling to proceed without the former’s contributions.  It might have continued for years.

Until Harley switched things up.

He’d rarely talked about his living situation before his parents’ deaths with her, but he assumed Alfred must have filled her in on the details based on the approach she took.

One day, she pulled him into one of the many unused rooms in the manor, except now it was filled with furniture.  Bedframes, chests, drawers, desks, chairs, sofas, and all other manner of items, none of them even vaguely matching.

 “So, I just want you to have a look at all of this stuff,” Harley instructed him, “and tell me which ones remind you of your parents.”

Bruce looked at her in confusion. “Why?”

“I’ll explain later,” she assured him. “Just trust me for a bit.”

Deciding to humor her, Bruce took his time wandering between the various items, looking at each one in turn.  After so many years, it was sometimes hard to remember more than vague details about them, but he tried.  For Harley.  He could tell from the way she was watching his every move that this was important to her.

“This one,” he said eventually, pointing at an armchair.

Harley put a sticky note on it. “Okay, what about it? 

“It looks like one my dad used to have,” Bruce said softly. “He put it next to the fireplace, and we would watch the Grey Ghost together when I was little.”

Harley nodded. “Any others?”

After careful consideration, he chose a writing desk that reminded him of the one his father used for correspondence, and a makeup table like his mother’s.  Harley put post it notes on each one.

She still refused to tell him what exactly she was doing until a week later, but she moved them to a guest bedroom for several nights and wouldn’t allow him into one of the sitting rooms.  Painters and workers went in and out over the course of a couple days, directed by Harley and the designer they’d hired for the job.  Finally, she ushered him into the sitting room.  The first thing he noticed wasn’t the changes she’d made, or even the sharp smell of fresh paint.

It was the chair sitting next to the fireplace, facing a simple TV stand.  Right away, he could tell that the rest of the room had been designed around this piece.  The furniture complemented it without looking too similar, and the rest of the furnishings, decorations, and colors all lent a seamlessness to the space.

The bedroom was just the same, with the makeup table a centerpiece around which the rest of the room had been built.  He saw touches of Harley’s taste interwoven in the artwork, carpets, and fabrics.  It was expertly done, none of it clashing or competing.

Neither room was exactly like the penthouse he’d lived in with parents.  He’d been too young to remember the little details anyway, but that wasn’t the point.  The point was how it felt.

It felt like home.

The rest of the remodel fell into place after that, and they were done with the house in fairly quick order.  The odd thing was, despite how different it looked when they were finished, it felt as familiar as any place he’d ever been.

One evening, as they were admiring the finished entryway, Alfred remarked. “Perhaps we should have a gathering of some sort?  To celebrate the new Wayne Manor.”

Harley’s eyes lit up. “That’d be fun!  We could have a real blast!”

Bruce had never been the party type, but he couldn’t deny it was a good idea.  It had been a long time since he’d hosted anything at the Manor, and Veronica had been bugging him about it. “Just as long as it isn’t too garish,” he said.

Harley pulled out a pen and paper. “Just so I know, what’s too garish?”

“You know, like those ridiculous debutante, coming-out, balls.  That sort of thing.”

She looked at him in confusion. “Comin’ out, what now?  Like if you’re not straight?  You all do parties and stuff?”

“No, not like that,” and he explained about the upper crust rituals surrounding coming of age and moving into adulthood.  The absurd dresses and tuxedos, the over the top music and food, the way people fawned over their starved, half-crazed children. “I managed to avoid most of them,” Bruce concluded, feeling thankful. “I only had to go to a couple.  They were awful.”

Belatedly, he noticed the devilish, mischievous look in Harley’s eye.  He hadn’t seen such a downright evil expression on her face since her time with the Joker. “Oh please no,” he said, his heart sinking. “Even _you_ wouldn’t enjoy that!”

But all the concern she’d shown for his opinion when remodeling vanished at the prospect of a completely over the top dress up party.  No matter how much he objected, she just giggled madly and carried on planning what was sure to be the most painful evening of his life.  What was worse, she somehow got _Alfred_ to help.  He’d frequently walk into the kitchen to see them bent over a laptop, both smiling like it was Christmas.  For God’s sake, he _never_ saw Alfred smile that much.  Except when he got to torture his adoptive son apparently.

He asked Alfred, repeatedly, why he would agree to such an outrageous sounding event.  To which his butler would reply, with an enigmatic smile, “It sounds rather fun.”

Bruce could only splutter at this response.  Fun?  _Fun?!_   This from the man who had banned nearly every activity young Bruce Wayne had found fun, from trampolines, to ropes, to obstacle courses.  When he finally managed to bring this up, all Alfred would say was, “Perhaps my sense of fun aligns slightly better with Ms. Quinzel.”

The idea that Alfred would agree with _Harleen_ _Quinzel_ of all people on what was fun put Bruce into such a state of shock that he found himself virtually incapable of speech throughout the rest of the planning process.

Which was how he’d ended up on the top of the staircase, decked out in the most ridiculous suit he’d ever worn, forcing a smile onto his face as he looked into the amused expressions of Gotham’s elite.

“Just go with it,” Harley whispered in his ear. “Treat it like a joke and laugh a bit.  You just got the richest people in Gotham to dress up like idiots without even askin’ any questions.  The Joker’d kill to make somethin’ like this happen.”

She had a point, he admitted to himself.  Her invitation specified a certain kind of dress code for the event.  It was one that would surely raise eyebrows, but a bit of careful wording, courtesy of Alfred, prevented objections.  Bruce wasn’t sure exactly what it said, although he was pretty sure it was neither, “Stupid cotillion outfits” as Bruce would have put it, nor “Big fluffy, fru-fru dresses” as Harley liked to say.  Yet both were perfect descriptions of the attire for the evening.

Over the next few hours, Harley proceeded to inflict as many non-lethal pranks as possible on their assembled guests.  A mild panic set in once it was discovered that there was not a drop of alcohol to be found in the house, beyond a bottle of Alfred’s cooking sherry that one guest attempted to hide under her dress.  The surprises continued when they moved into the ballroom and saw place settings containing nothing but dessert forks and spoons.  At first, many people seemed to think there had been some sort of mix up, but three courses of differently flavored crème brulees set them straight. 

Harley knew exactly what she was doing.

The surprises continued during the after-dinner dance, which featured the most violent death metal Harley could find, pumped through the fanciest sound system money could buy.  By this point, many of their guests began experiencing a variety of family and business emergencies that they regretfully were forced to attend to.  Harley was very understanding of course, and thanked them all for coming before gifting them with a real, live bunny rabbit and skipping off as they attempted to protest.

To Bruce’s incredible shock, a small contingent of guests not only stayed, but actively seemed to be enjoying themselves.  He could not discern any pattern in age or occupation of this group, but they all shared the sort of wild abandon he normally associated with cocaine fueled ragers.

Veronica was one of them of course, her initial reluctance and confusion quickly dissolving as it became clear that this would be a party unlike any she’d been too.  Bruce knew she’d long become tired of the normal Gotham events, and her excitement at something novel began spilling out around the second dessert.

Bruce hadn’t expected Karl Rossum to be just as eager.  He knew the man had a serious sweet tooth, but seeing him on the dance floor, head-banging and singing along to every song was…disconcerting.  And strangely amusing after a while.

Despite being told he was not required to attend, Damian wandered around the entire time looking like he’d been transported to an alien planet.  His brow was constantly furrowed, and he kept asking Harley questions about the choices she’d made for décor or refreshments, only to become even more confused as her answers made no sense to him.  His reactions alone almost made it worth it to Bruce.

The next morning, after Bruce had somewhat recovered from the sensory overload of the party, Harley finally let him in on the real reason she’d thrown such an outrageous event.

“It’s no more ridiculous than the other idiotic things you rich people do,” she explained as he nursed a mug of tea (caffeinated for once, in an attempt to fight off the sugar crash). “’Cept this ain’t what it usually looks like.  You all sit there and pretend ya like canapes and talkin’ about stock prices, just because you’re supposed to.”

“Some people actually do enjoy canapes and talking about stocks,” Bruce pointed out.

“Sure,” Harley replied easily, taking a bite of a leftover cupcake and making his stomach turn.  How could she possibly eat _more_ dessert right now? “Probably the first ones out the door last night.  Thing is, I wasn’t throwin’ a party for them, I was throwin’ a party for me.  I was doin’ things how I wanted to do ‘em.  And now I know who’s up for havin’ some fun, and who to leave off the birthday guest list from now on.”

It made a strange bit of sense to Bruce, although one thing stood out. “What about the kind of party _I’d_ like?  How come we didn’t throw one of those?”

“Cuz you ain’t got a clue what that’d even look like,” Harley said, not even blinking. “No offense, Bruce, but if I’d’ve let you plan this whole shindig, you’d have come up with somethin’ just as borin’ and forgettable as your old decorations.”

Bruce opened his mouth to object, then reluctantly closed it as he realized she was right.

Harley looked at him steadily. “If you ever feel like hostin’ somethin’ that’s you, and I mean really _you_ , I’ll be more than happy to be there.  But right now, I ain’t doin’ no more fake shit.  That renovation wasn’t just for show, we’re doin’ things different around here.  If people don’t like it, they’ll just have to take it up with you.”

“Me?” Bruce asked in surprise. “Why me?”

“Hey, it’s your fault, I’m here,” Harley grinned evilly. “You knew what you were getting’ into.”

That wasn’t really true, Bruce hadn’t actually had a clue what he was getting into.  But he wouldn’t have traded it for the world.


	29. Fairytales

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's keep the momentum up as long as we can!
> 
> One of the very first comics I ever read was Kingdom Come by Mark Waid and Alex Cross. For those unfamiliar, in featured a speculative DC future. Aside from just being a phenomenal story, I was fascinated by the idea of an older Bruce Wayne who was so physically broken down from his years as Batman that he needed a mechanical skeleton to even move. While I think Dark Knight Rises jumped the gun a bit on crippling him a bit early in his career, I wanted more stories to deal with this element of Batman's mortality.
> 
> Well, since no one's really granted my wish so far, I decided to just do it myself. Here's my take on the aging Batman.

Living with Bruce was like living in a fairytale.  A really weird, twisted one, admittedly, but a fairy tale nonetheless.  Harley now lived in a palace.  It was an empty, blank palace, because its owner was being irritatingly noncommittal about the new color scheme, but it had crazy big rooms and everything.  She ate fancy meals on silver plates served by a butler with the rough hands of a killer.  At night she read trashy mystery novels in a cavernous library or slayed dragons on a giant television.

And in the morning, she woke up next to a knight.

He wasn’t what most people thought of when they pictured knights.  He was tall and handsome, but scarred and battle weary at the same time.  Like Arthur at the end of his days, a comparison only enhanced by the fact that Bruce didn’t move like Batman in the mornings. 

Some days, he moved almost like a cripple.

Harley hadn’t noticed it immediately.  The first few weeks, he did a good job of getting out of bed with her, pretending like everything was normal.  They went down to breakfast, exercised, showered together, then drove to work.

But each day she was there, Bruce was just a bit slower.  Slower to get out of bed, slower to eat, slower to warm up, slower to respond.  The day he apologetically declined bending her over the nearest piece of conveniently placed furniture during their workout was the day she realized something wasn’t quite right. 

The morning Bruce couldn’t get out of bed on his own, she found out what.

“Did you injure yourself last night?” Harley asked in concern as she propped him up on some pillows. “You shoulda mentioned something if you were hurt.”

“It’s nothing like that,” he groaned, trying to sit up and failing.  Charlie hopped up on the bed and nuzzled Bruce on the arm.

“Then what is it?  You can’t fake like nothin’s wrong, cuz I know that’s bs.  Is it cuz of Bane?  Is stuff acting up again.”

“Something like that,” he muttered, patting Charlie.

Harley waited for him to elaborate but he didn’t. “You wanna give me a little more to work with?  You know I’m a doctor, right?  I can do a bit more than just stitch.” When he still didn’t say anything, she scowled. “If you don’t tell me I’m just gonna have Alfred beat it outta you.”

Bruce sighed and didn’t look at her. “I was just…trying to be normal.”

“Oh look, he speaks!” Harley joked. “Alright then, whaddya mean, normal?”

“You know, the way you are,” Bruce said, still not looking at her. “Like someone who doesn’t need a half an hour to get out of bed.”

She arched an eyebrow. “Why d’you need a half an hour?”

“It usually takes that long to get my joints loosened up,” Bruce explained looking weirdly ashamed. “I have to stretch, get everything moving.  Otherwise it gets harder and harder to do anything.”

“So why weren’t you?” Harley asked.

He shrugged. “I didn’t want to worry you.”

Harley stared at him for a minute before laughing out loud. “Are you serious?  You wander around every night dressed like a giant, armored bat, and _this_ is what you think I’m gonna be worried about?” She took one of his hands. “You and I are crazy.  You know that, right Bruce?  We ain’t like normal people, and we ain’t ever gonna be.  So what if your body’s all messed up?  My _brain’s_ all messed up.  Most nights I gotta read or play a game ‘til about three in the morning before I can sleep.  Only thing’d _really_ worry me is you tryin’ to be somethin’ just to make me feel better.  Okay?”

Bruce met her gaze reluctantly and nodded. “Okay.”

“Good.  Now come on, let me have a better look at you,” she said briskly.

Harley spent the next few minutes doing the most thorough medical examination she could manage with her little medical bag.  He had the lowest resting heart rate she’d ever _heard_ of, which wasn’t very surprising.  His blood pressure was similarly perfect, and she suspected his cholesterol would be the same if she were able to check it.

The rest of him wasn’t so lucky.  At her request, he gave a thorough recounting of all the breaks, sprains, fractures, and other non-invasive injuries he’d received over the years.  It took a while.  While he talked, she tested his range of motion, reflexes, and as many other things as she could think of.

Damian wandered in eventually, not even bothering knock.  Luckily Harley had put on some sweats and a shirt, in case she needed to leave the room to get something.

“Alfred told me to check on you,” he said, looking thoroughly disinterested. “He was wondering why neither of you came down for breakfast.  I told him you were likely engaged in intercourse.”

“And you thought you’d just barge in?” Harley asked.

The boy didn’t look the least bit abashed. “There were no noises.”

“Maybe I’m just quiet,” Harley said, not sure why she was allowing herself to be drawn into this conversation.

“Given your normal speaking volume, I sincerely doubt that,” Damian replied at once.

She tried to come up with some sort of retort, but the whole thing was just so weird.  She decided to just give up and change the subject. “Your dad’s not feelin’ too well this morning.  I’m givin’ him a look over.”

Damian nodded, his expression unchanged. “I shall inform Alfred.

“No, wait!” Bruce tried to say, but Damian was already gone.  He slumped even further into the bed. “Great, now he’s going to lecture me about not taking care of myself.”

“Maybe not, maybe he’ll just bring you up breakfast?” Harley suggested, not really believing it.

Alfred did not bring up breakfast.  He tore into Bruce with a vengeance that scared even Harley.  She made a big deal of checking his heart rate again, just so she’d have something blocking her ears.  Meanwhile Damian sat next to Charlie, looking oddly smug.  Only once Alfred subsided into a furious, red-faced silence did she dare to remove the stethoscope.

“Man this is a pain in the ass without an x-ray machine,” she remarked, more to break the tension than anything else.

“We actually have one down in the cave,” Bruce said in an offhand sort of way, still looking remarkably ashamed from Alfred’s rant. “We don’t always know how to read it though.”

Harley rolled her eyes. “Of course you do.  Come on then.”

With Alfred’s help, she was able to get him down to the cave and onto the x-ray machine.  The whole process was challenging, between the lack of a proper technician, and the fact that it had been a considerable amount of time since Harley had exercised these skills.  Luckily Alfred was a highly competent, if slightly informal assistant.  While she reviewed the results, along with various other records they kept around, Bruce reclined in a chair with Charlie at his side, Alfred looking interestedly over her shoulder.

“How the hell have you never lost an organ?” Harley muttered at one point.

“Armor plates protecting important areas,” Bruce replied grimly.

“And quite a bit of luck,” Alfred added, still looking irritated.

“That too.”

Harley took her time, calling up the occasional text to make sure she was remembering her medical training properly.

“Alright,” she said finally, looking up and rubbing her eyes. “Keepin’ in mind I don’t got a proper medical license no more, and even if I did, this ain’t exactly my area of expertise; but you’re all kinds of fucked up.”

Bruce chuckled. “That an official diagnosis?”

“Pretty much.  Near as I can tell, you’re really healthy.  Heart, liver, lungs, kidneys, all looks just fine.  You’ll probably live forever, if no one shoots you first.” Harley did her best not to sound too resentful.  She knew from her last checkup that she wasn’t in nearly as good shape.  Of course, there was always a downside. “Problem is you’re gonna be in pain for a lot of it if you don’t take better care of yourself.  Your bones never set wrong by some kinda miracle, but your tendons and joints are all shot to hell.  I’m kinda surprised you can move at all.  Probably wouldn’t hurt to lose a few pounds.  You might be nothin’ but muscle, but that’s still weighin’ you down.”

“I’ve told him something similar,” Alfred chimed in, glaring at his adopted son.

Bruce sighed in irritation. “I can’t.  I’m not as fast as Dick or Tim.  I need strength to keep an advantage.”

Harley and Alfred shared a commiserating look. “I seem to recall that being one of the reasons Mr. Fox developed his exoskeleton,” Alfred remarked with the weary tone of someone who knew they were fighting a losing battle.

Bruce scowled. “I already said no.”

“Exoskeleton?” Harley asked in confusion.

“A prototype,” Alfred explained. “It’s designed to reinforce and augment the wearer.  Theoretically, it supports increased strength, maneuverability, and speed, but without any strain on one’s body.  Mr. Fox originally designed it after Master Bruce’s first encounter with Bane.  When we weren’t sure if he’d make a full recovery.”

“But then I did,” Bruce said pointedly, “and we didn’t need it anymore.”

Harley gave him a skeptical look. “This what full recovery looks like, huh?  Alright then, why don’t you go give me a vault on the pommel horse?” Bruce glared at her, not moving. “No?  How about a couple laps then?” Still nothing. “Throw a few batarangs?”

“Alright,” he grated, looking away, “I get it.”

“Do you?” she said, walking over to his chair and kneeling down. “Cuz I don’t think you do, Bruce.  By my call, you got another year, maybe two before you can’t do this no more.  Hell, I don’t get how you can do it _now_!  If the old Fox’s got a way to help out, why not use it?”

“It just…” Bruce looked like he was struggling. “It feels like cheating.  Like I’d be losing my edge.”

Alfred and Harley exchanged another incredulous glance. “Uh, Bruce, I hate to break it to ya, but you’ve kinda always been cheating,” Harley said with a smile. “You know, bein’ a billionaire and all?  How’s this different than havin’ Lucius make you a tank?”

“Because it was still me!” Bruce burst out. “It was still _my_ body, _my_ effort!  Even with everything else, at the end of the day it was _me_ , not some robot.”

“And it still will be,” Harley reassured him. “It’s still you goin’ out there, kickin’ ass, takin’ names, lockin’ up bad guys.  For fuck’s sake you’ll probably be better at it!”

Bruce still seemed unconvinced.  Sighing resolutely, Harley stood up and stared down at him.

“Alright, I’ll give you two options.” She raised a finger. “Option number one, you start usin’ Fox’s suit.  If it’s as good as Alfred says, you’ll probably manage another ten years of doin’ this, _and_ you won’t spend the rest of your life in constant agony.” She raised a second finger. “Option two, I break your kneecaps right here and now.  And not in a friendly, to-prove-a-point kinda way.  I’ll put you in a wheelchair the rest of your life.  I don’t mind datin’ a cripple.  I’ll wheel you around and paint your toenails.”

“I’ll hold you down while she does it,” Alfred told him grimly. “It’s past time you accepted your limitations, Master Bruce.”

Bruce looked incredulously from Harley to Alfred, as if hoping one of them would cave.

They didn’t.  Damian did.

“I agree with you, Father,” the terrifying little boy said. “It would be a dishonorable way to conduct yourself.  Shall I enter the coordinates of the nearest Lazarus Pit?  That would be far more effective than any exoskeleton.”

The support of his son seemed to take all the fight out of Bruce and he sagged in his seat.

“I don’t _want_ you to stop bein’ Batman,” Harley said seriously, taking some pity of him. “I know how much it means to you.  But if you wanna be with me _and_ be Batman, this is how you’re gonna do it.”

“Fine!” he huffed. “Tell Lucius to start working on the exoskeleton.”

Damian’s expression soured, but Alfred smiled triumphantly. “I believe he already has.  The latest version should be ready by next week.”

Bruce grinned ruefully. “Of course it is.”

“You’re also gonna see a physical therapist,” Harley added.

“What?  Why?”

“Because I’m guessin’ you haven’t been,” Harley said. “But you need to be.  I can help a bit, but I ain’t that kind of doctor.”

“How do I explain all this to a physical therapist?” Bruce gestured at his body. “What kind of person has these kinds of injuries?”

“The kind of idiot you’ve been pretendin’ to be the last ten years,” Harley argued. “I’ve seen the headlines, they’re always talkin’ about you crashin’ cars or havin’ skiing accidents.  Pretty sure you got your cover all taken care of.”

“They’re going to recognize stab wounds,” Bruce said stubbornly. “Unless they’re a total idiot, and in that case I’m not sure I want them helping me.”

“Okay, fine!” Harley threw up her hands in defeat. “No one official.  I guess I can work with you a little.  I learned a bit in Arkham.”

Bruce raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t realize Arkham gave out degrees in physical therapy.”

“Don’t be a smartass,” she retorted. “It was real informal.  More like massage therapy.  Dr. Leland thought it’d help to me do somethin’ productive with all my medical training.  Without actually doin’ nothing medical, you know.”

“Forgive me,” Alfred interjected, “but do you mean to say they allowed you to work on the prisoners?”

“Yeah, a bit,” Harley replied, somewhat defensively. “Why, you implyin’ something, Alfred?”

“Not at all,” Alfred said delicately. “Only that, well, it shows an unusual amount of trust.  I wouldn’t have thought they’d allow their inmates such liberties with one another.”

“Wellll…” Harley hedged, “it wasn’t like I was runnin’ wild or nothin.’  First person I saw was Firefly.  You know, he’s got all those burns and stuff, messed up pretty good.  They let me work with him cuz he wouldn’t let no one else near him.”

Bruce looked interested. “What was that like?”

“Kinda irritating.  He was always screamin’ about everyone burnin’ an’ the flames, blah blah blah.  I sorta tuned him out after a while.  I wonder if that’s why they were okay with me bein’ around him?” Harley reflected. “Maybe they weren’t real worried about him getting’ killed?  But I swear, I never did more than tweak a nerve once or twice to shut him up!”

 Alfred and Bruce laughed a bit. “Alright then,” Bruce acquiesced. “You win, Doc.  I’m in your hands.”

Harley smiled widely. “Promise I’ll only take advantage of you a little.”

Eventually, he would admit that they were both right.  The exoskeleton made Bruce faster than he’d been in over a decade, while reducing the strain on his body immensely.  He only wore it as Batman, insisting he still wanted to be in control of his own body as much as possible.  At Harley’s insistence, he reduced his muscle mass slightly, but he was still stronger than any of the rest of them.  He also still needed a lot of time to limber up in the morning, but as his skeletal system recovered, and as he progressed in his physical therapy, that routine became easier.

Harley rubbed his face in all of this repeatedly, much to his chagrin.  Every time he mentioned how good he felt, or some particularly difficult maneuver he’d pulled off on patrol, she’d look him in the eye and say, very smugly, “I told you so.”

And he would look back, smile, and say, “I know.  And you were right.”

Because Harley’s life was a fairytale.  One where she got to save the handsome knight.


	30. Horsing Around

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been way too long since my last update, but I'm back! The holiday season should make it easier for me to focus on writing, and I'm planning on wrapping up this fic before the end of the year. Thanks to everyone to still reading along!

“You’re sure about this?” Harley asked for the dozenth time that morning.

“Only if you don’t mind,” Bruce replied patiently.

“I don’t mind.  Just not sure I got a whole lot to contribute.

“Give it a shot.  I think you’ll be surprised.”

Harley shrugged skeptically and finished her stretches, turning to face Tim across the sparring platform.  

Tim raised his hands defensively and nodded. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Harley smiled brightly. “Okay.” Without warning, she launched herself at Tim, screaming like a maniac.

The young man was clearly not expecting it, and he attempted to fall back, but Harley was all over him, kicking and clawing and shouting.  Within a moment, he was subdued, arms pinned under Harley’s legs and her hands at his throat.  His expression was blankly stunned.

She relinquished her hold on him and got to her feet, looked just as perplexed.  They both glanced at Bruce, who smiled smugly. “Still think this is a waste of time?”

“That really shouldn’t’ve worked,” Harley remarked.

Bruce nodded. “You’re right it shouldn’t have.” He turned to Tim. “Why did it?”

Tim stood up, frowning. “I don’t know.  I guess I wasn’t expecting it.”

“Why?” Bruce challenged him. “Were you not taking this seriously?”

Tim looked chagrined. “I guess not really.  Sorry,” he added to Harley. “Let’s try again.”

They resumed their positions, but there was now a wariness to Tim’s posture.  He circled Harley who stood casually as if she was watching a show.  Abruptly she lunged forward, her steps nimble as a dancer’s and aimed a high kick at Tim’s face.  He managed to lean back just far enough to avoid having his nose destroyed and brought his hands up to try to catch Harley’s leg.  She was too quick though, and was already turning, transferring her momentum into a heavy side kick that landed firmly in the center of Tim’s stomach.  Despite the armor in his suit, the blow clearly winded him, and he stumbled back with a grunt.

Harley pressed her advantage, swinging another kick.  Tim had obviously expected her to try to hit his face again, and he only barely managed to transition his block down to catch the groin kick.  She still connected though, and Bruce winced sympathetically from the sidelines.  Even with the armoring of the suit, he knew that must have hurt.

It did finally give him a decent hold on Harley’s ankle, and he tried to yank upward, clearly hoping to throw her off balance.  Harley went with it though, jumping into a back flip that yanked her leg free.  She landed in a low crouch and attempted to sweep Tim’s legs, but he dove clear over her, hitting the mat in a roll and turning for a blinding spin kick.

Harley hadn’t stood though, and the kick went straight over her head.  She lashed out at his other leg and he buckled, falling to the ground in a heap.  A moment later she again had him pinned and helpless.

“Better,” Bruce said as they got back to their feet. “But still a lot of room to improve.  What went wrong, Tim?”

Tim leaned against a railing, sweating heavily. “I can’t get a handle on your style.  I thought for a second you were using capoeira, but then you switched it up.  Where were you trained?”

Harley shrugged. “Back alleys and warehouses mostly.  The occasional toy factory.  One or two abandoned amusement parks too.”

Tim frowned as if she was speaking another language.  Bruce had to suppress a smile before saying, “Harley doesn’t have any formal training, Tim.”

“That makes no sense,” Tim said. “You don’t fight like any street brawler I’ve ever seen.”

“I know,” Harley sighed. “I don’t know what they teach the kids these days, but you just can’t find a good street thug no more.  All the good ones are stuck in Arkham or hidin’ from Batman in Iowa.”

Bruce felt his lips twitch and struggled against the urge to laugh. “Let’s give it another try.”

Tim held up a bit better the third round.  He ducked and wove as Harley kicked at him like a madwoman.  He tried grabbing her legs once or twice more before realizing that there was no way to hold onto her without getting pummeled.  Eventually he caught on that Harley was working to keep some distance between them.  She never threw a punch or tried to close in with him.  He started trying to corner her, get close enough that she couldn’t put any force behind her kicks, but she was too nimble for him.

Watching them, Bruce was taken back to the many times he’d tangled with Harley over the years.  She was not the most skilled of his opponents, that distinction probably went to Bane or Deathstroke, but there was an unpredictable quality to her fighting style that made her a uniquely dangerous enemy.  Oddly, thinking about those days brought up a certain fond nostalgia, knowing that he wouldn’t ever have to fight her again.

Tim finally managed to get Harley cornered against one of the railings and moved in for the finish.  To both his and Bruce’s shock, she simply jumped backwards over the railing and into open air.  As she began to fall, she grabbed hold of the railing and her momentum spun her underneath the lowest bar.  She slid across the mat, right between Tim’s legs.  As she passed, she grabbed the trailing edge of Tim’s cape and gave it a hard yank.  Tim tipped over backward, crashing to the floor.  He instinctively slapped his hands out to the sides to blunt the shock, but that put him at Harley’s mercy once again.

“Not fair,” Tim said immediately. “The cape should have gone static when she grabbed it!”

“It should have,” Bruce agreed, “if I hadn’t turned it off.  I thought she might try that, and I wanted to see how you’d react.”

“Poorly,” Tim grumbled.

“It’s just like that time at the candy store!” Harley said excitedly. “Remember, I tripped you up on all those loose M&Ms!”

“I know,” Bruce replied wryly. “Believe it or not, that was the first time someone tried using the cape against me.”

“No!  For real?” Harley looked both incredulous and slightly proud of herself.

“For real,” Bruce confirmed. “Took a while to figure out how to counter.”

“Let’s try again,” Tim said, a determined look on his face.

Bruce could tell as soon as they started that Tim was losing focus.  His movements were wild and uncoordinated in a clumsy attempt to mimic Harley’s style.  The result was that he lost the bout even quicker than before.

“Dammit!” he said, jumping up as soon as Harley let go of him and starting to pace around the sparring mat. “What the hell’s wrong with me?”

Bruce opened his mouth to answer, but Harley beat him to it. “You keep lettin’ me lead.  This ain’t a dance, you gotta take the initiative.”

“I’m trying!” Tim snapped. “That last one I didn’t wait for you to attack!”

“True, but you kept trying to fight like her,” Bruce said. “That’s still letting her dictate terms.”

“Well fighting like myself wasn’t getting me anywhere,” Tim remarked irritably.

“The solution to that isn’t to throw out your whole technique,” Bruce admonished. “Harley’s had years to practice and perfect her fighting style; you aren’t going to be able to pick it up in a couple minutes.  The smarter thing would be to analyze your own style and figure out what’s not working.  _Then_ you can adjust.”

Tim took a deep, calming breath and nodded.

“Here, let’s switch it up a bit,” Bruce suggested, walking over to the weapons rack and removing two items.  Returning to the sparring platform, he tossed one to Tim and the other to Harley.

Tim easily snatched his padded practice staff out of the air and twirled it expertly around his head.  Harley had a little more trouble catching the large hammer Bruce threw her way.  After sorting herself out, she hefted the weapon, looking askance at the heavily cushioned head.

“You made a toy version of my hammer?” she asked Bruce incredulously.

Bruce smiled slightly. “Hardly a toy.  That could still do a decent bit of damage.  If you remember how to use it, that is.”

Harley arched an eyebrow at his tone. “Oh, I remember how to use it alright.  I just didn’t realize you’d gotten tired of havin’ Tim around.  Cuz he might need a little while to recover after I’m done with him.”

Tim gave her a look, his eyes lighting up. “Oh that’s what you think, is it?  Bruce, I hope you don’t need your girlfriend for anything, because I’m about to kick her ass all over this cave!”

Harley grinned fiercely. “Let’s see ya try it Birdie!”

“Play nice,” Bruce interjected. “Maybe no aiming for the face?”

The look they both gave him was contemptuous, and he backed off, hands raised in surrender.

A few minutes into their latest match, Bruce realized that Harley and Tim had no intention of restricting their fight to the sparring platform and decided it would be best to observe from a…safer vantage point.  Damian had taken up residence on one of the catwalks and didn’t look away from the combatants as Bruce sat down next to him.  For a few minutes, they watched Harley and Tim wreak destruction on the cave.  Harley was particularly indiscriminate, swinging her hammer around and cackling like a madwoman.  Luckily the padding was enough to stop her from doing any significant damage, but it would take a while to find all the gadgets she was scattering across the cave.

“I now understand why you like her, Father,” Damian said abruptly.  He was still watching Harley, who was now chasing Tim through the obstacle course, hammer raised above her head.

“Do you?” Bruce asked interestedly.  They’d had no more issues with Damian since his break in at Jackson Robotics, but all the same he’d gotten no indication that the youth had particularly warmed to Harley. “Feel like sharing why?”

“No,” Damian said as, below them, Harley took a wild swing, over balanced, and fell over one of the railings, only to giggle madly as she bounced on the safety net underneath. “No, I don’t think I shall.”


	31. Unexpected Visitors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I mentioned in reply to various comments, this story was not originally meant to be quite so long and drawn out. Because of this, I didn't have an overarching plot with a villain and lots of action. However, this is still a Batman story, and I couldn't resist tossing in a little bit. I also felt it was important to wrap up some of the plot threads I introduced when Damian came into the story. So here it is, our thrilling, action packed, sort-of-climax to the story! Hope you enjoy!

“Ha!  I’m winning now!” Damian announced happily.

Harley spared a glance from the screen to the dark-haired youth sitting next to her. “You know we’re not competin’ right?  This is a cooperative game.”

Damian paused the game and frowned at her in confusion. “What do you mean, ‘cooperative?’  I have eliminated more of the enemy than you.  I’m winning.”

“We’re playin’ together though,” she tried to explain. “It don’t matter who kills more.  How do you even know that anyway?  The game doesn’t keep track of kill counts.”

“Indeed.  I thought we were meant to do so ourselves.  What is the point if neither of us wins?”

Harley tried to think of how to explain the concept of non-competitive games, but Damian’s face was so open and earnest, and she knew from experience that he would ask a million questions, so she decided not to bother.

“Yeah, okay,” she said. “How many have I got?”

“Thirty-eight.”

“How about you?”

“Forty-five.  I caught a large group with that grenade.”

“Oh come on!” Harley protested. “That’s not fair, I didn’t even know we were competin’!”

“That’s hardly my fault.” Damian settled back into the couch, looking smug.

Harley narrowed her eyes. “Oh it’s on now you little cheater!”

The game quickly became far more brutal and focused as Harley started matching Damian’s competitiveness.  Things got rather heated when Harley started reaching over to flick Damian’s ear whenever he was about to make a kill.  He objected that such a tactic was not at all fair, but she pointed out that they hadn’t set down any ground rules prior to starting.  After that their attempts to sabotage one another became increasingly elaborate.  Damian stood in front of Harley to block her view of the TV.  In retaliation, Harley actually sat on the boy crushing his controller against his body.  He escalated the conflict in an entirely unfair way by tickling her sides.  She yelped and jumped to her feet immediately, inadvertently turning as she did so.

The move saved her life.

Standing, poised in the entry to the game room as if she’d come straight out of a martial arts movie, was a real life, honest-to-God ninja with a sword raised over her head, poised to strike.  She’d clearly been attempting, quite successfully, to sneak up on them and dispatch them quietly.  Her eyes, just barely visible through the eyeholes of her mask, widened when Harley turned.

Time seemed to slow for Harley.  Even as Damian was grinning triumphantly on the couch, the ninja attempted to rally, swinging the sword down at the boy’s head.  Harley did the only thing that occurred to her in the moment; she threw the game controller at the ninja’s face.

The woman, whoever she was, had obviously been trained well.  She was used to having projectiles hurled at her, and she transitioned from attack to defense in an instant.  That right there was her mistake.  While a game controller wouldn’t feel great bouncing off one’s face, it certainly wasn’t the same as a knife, which was how the ninja treated it.  She ducked, rolling off to the side.

Harley had the tiniest of moments to guess which direction the ninja would go.  At least seventy percent of people were right-handed and tended to react to threats by moving in that direction.  Gambling both hers and Damian’s lives on those statistics, she ran to her left, knowing that if she was wrong, she wouldn’t be able to correct in time.

Luckily, the ninja rolled to the right.  She regained her feet just as Harley reached her.  Unlike her sparring matches with Tim, Harley knew that she didn’t stand a chance fighting the ninja at range.  She’d never fought someone wielding a sword before, and she wasn’t going to figure out how to do it properly in a few seconds.  Her only chance was to close with their attacker and take her out quickly.

Harley struck at the ninja’s throat, trying to incapacitate the other woman, but the ninja fell back and the blow barely touched her.  Harley followed, grabbing the ninja’s arm when she tried bringing the sword to bear and ramming her against the wall.  The ninja hit with a grunt, and Harley was able to tear the sword from her slackened fingers, throwing it across the room.

Unfortunately, the ninja recovered quickly and took advantage of the opening, tackling Harley to the ground and pressing a forearm against Harley’s throat.  Harley tried kicking and clawing at the other woman, but she deftly maneuvered so that Harley arms were pinned, and she could do very little but kick ineffectively.

Harley had never picked up much in the way of grappling technique over the years.  Doing so would have required allowing Joker’s smelly, drooling thugs much closer than she’d have like.  Besides which, they were all so big anyway, it seemed like a pointless endeavor.  She’d always done just fine with her hammer, fists, and feet.  Now she was sorely regretting that oversight in her martial education, and resolved to do something to fix it as soon as possible.

If she got the chance, that was.  The ninja’s chokehold was effective, and Harley could already feel her vision starting to grey out.  She desperately tried to think of something, some trick that would get her out of the situation, but nothing presented itself to her increasingly foggy brain.  It seemed almost certain that she would die here…

Suddenly, the ninja let out a shout of pain, and the pressure lifted from Harley’s throat.  She sucked in deep, choking lungfuls of air while the ninja scrabbled backward, struggling to get away from some threat Harley’s fuzzy vision couldn’t make out.

Knowing she was still in danger, Harley tried to force herself to her feet, still struggling to get oxygen flowing to her brain again.  She grabbed the side of the couch, and hauled herself upright as fast as she could, seizing a lamp from a side table for use as a makeshift weapon.

By the time she got her wits back, however, the situation had already resolved itself.  The ninja lay on her stomach, several knives protruding from her body at the shoulder, calf, and wrist.  Damian knelt on her back, one hand forcing the ninja’s head back at what must have been a deeply uncomfortable angle, while his other hand held yet another knife to her throat.  She wasn’t struggling, but her eyes were bright and furious beneath her mask.

“Apologies for taking so long,” Damian said, hardly sounding any different than usual as he glanced at Harley. “I had difficulty identifying the vulnerable points in her armor at first.  Are you seriously injured?”

Harley shook her head, setting the lamp back down. “I’ll be fine.” Her voice came out raspy, and she felt her throat gingerly.  It was tender, and she knew it would probably bruise terribly, but her airway was clear.

Damian returned his attention to the ninja. “What should we do about her?”

Harley moved closer to look at the woman.  Now that she had a moment to actually examine the ninja, she saw that her dark body armor and mask were heavily inlaid with intricate embroidery.  They wound all over her torso, shoulders, and arms, spelling out who knew what.  Between that, the sword, and the woman’s intense, angry eyes made her one of the strangest assailants Harley had ever encountered.  A feeling of dread began spreading through her body.

“She’s part of the League, isn’t she?” Harley asked quietly.

Damian nodded shortly. “Almost certainly.  I find it highly unlikely that another would have been able to acquire such equipment.”

“They’re here for you,” Harley surmised, thinking back to everything Bruce had told her about the League, and the circumstances of Damian coming to live with him.

“Most likely.” The only indication that Damian was feeling any stress from the situation was a slight tension in his tone, and the way his knuckles had turned white on the knife hilt.

 “What’re the odds she’s here alone?”

Damian thought about it. “Unlikely, but I cannot be sure.  I have not had any contact with the League since coming here.  If they have fractured further, it is possible she may be a lone wolf of sorts.”

“Yeah, like I’m that lucky,” Harley muttered, crouching down in front of the ninja. “Is it just you girly?  Ya got a buncha crazy ninja friends in the ballroom?”

The woman just glared at her.

“She won’t talk, even under threat of death,” Damian supplied.

“I got that,” Harley said irritably, standing up and moving to one of the walls, pressing her hand against a concealed scanner.  A glowing outline of her palm showed briefly before a panel slid to the side, revealing a hidden compartment filled with a variety of decidedly non-Bruce approved gadgets.

Damian’s eyes widened. “How long has that been there?” For the first time since she’d met him, he actually sounded surprised.

“Ask Alfred, he’s the one who put ‘em in.” Harley started pulling out items.  The first thing was a bullet proof vest that went over her pajamas.  Next was an ammo belt strapped tight around her waist, loaded with 12-gauge shells and stun grenades, and a pair of knives on her legs.  Finally, she pulled out the tactical shotgun and began chambering rounds, turning back to Damian, who looked aghast.

“ _Them?!_ ” he repeated. “You mean there’s more than one?”

Harley knew she probably shouldn’t tell him, but there were a lot more pressing issues at the moment. “Pretty sure there’s one in every room.  Alfred ain’t nearly as weird about guns as your dad.”

“Father would hardly approve.  Does he know?”

“Who knows?” Harley shrugged. “Probably, but I don’t think he’s expectin’ Alfred to fight off ninjas with his bare hands.”

“What about me?” Damian protested. “Am I meant to combat assailants with my bare hands as well?”

Harley spared a glance at the various knives sticking out of the ninja. “Pretty sure you’re doin’ fine.”

“A firearm would be far more effective,” Damian countered.

Harley hesitated.  He was right, if there were more ninjas in the house, he’d do much better with a gun than his knives.  At the same time, she knew exactly what Bruce would think of her handing his son a pistol and telling him to go nuts.  And she wasn’t quite sure survival was worth having to have that particular conversation.

“Here.” She grabbed a tranquilizer pistol and a couple magazines of darts and tossed them to Damian.  The boy caught the items, loaded the gun, and pumped a dart into the back of the ninja’s neck in less than a second.  The woman slumped to the ground, fiery eyes flicking reluctantly closed.

“Are you sure lethal rounds wouldn’t be better?” Damian asked, checking the gun.

“Let _me_ handle that,” Harley said, hoisting the shotgun up. “I ain’t tellin’ your dad I gave you live rounds.  Speakin’ of, shouldn’t he have noticed this happening?”

“Not if the League has taken control of the Cave and disabled communications and alarms,” Damian said grimly. “Which seems probable, given that she was able to sneak in on us.  In which case it will likely take some time for Father to become aware of our predicament.”

“Just long enough to take us out.” Harley made a frustrated noise. “Him and Tim are all the way out on the other side of the Narrows tonight.  No way they’d make it here in time, even if we could get a message to ‘em.”

“And it’s Alfred’s night off,” Damian observed. “It would seem the League arranged this perfectly.”

“We’re on our own.” A sense of foreboding settled over Harley. Her only small sense of relief was that Bruce had taken Charlie with him on patrol. As wonderful as her dog was, she didn’t think he’d be much use in a fight with ninjas. “What’s our play then?”

Damian thought about it. “The garage?  Get a car and attempt to break whatever perimeter they’ve established?”

Harley nodded. “Yeah, that’s the smart move.  So we’re definitely not gonna do that.”

Damian frowned. “We’re not?  Then why did you ask?”

“I wanted to know what they thought we’d do.” Harley marched over the door and peeked out into the bedroom. “You were trained by them, I figured you’d come up with the solution they’d expect.”

Damian joined her, looking put out. “Then what did _you_ have in mind?”

“You said they’ve probably got control of the Cave?  So let’s get it back.”

“That…seems unwise,” Damian replied skeptically. “They will undoubtedly have their best fighters in place.”

“Exactly!  They won’t be expectin’ it.  We’d be crazy to run right at ‘em like that.” A grin spread across Harley’s face. “Lucky for us, I’ve got crazy to spare.”

Damian still looked dubious, but he nodded gamely. “You have more practical experience than I do in these matters.  I’ll follow your lead.”

“Good,” Harley said. “Make sure and stay behind me.  We don’t got a vest that’ll cover you, so I’m your shield, okay?  You get a chance to tranq someone that’s cool, but don’t take no chances, got it?”

Damian nodded seriously. “I understand.”

“Okay then.” Harley took a deep breath. “Let’s go!”

They crept slowly through the mercifully empty master bedroom, Harley wincing at the tiniest creaking of the floorboards.

“Gimme the quickest rundown you can on these guys,” she whispered to Damian. “What am I lookin’ at?”

“Each one has training highly similar to my father’s,” Damian replied quietly. “None will be as talented, but they are extremely effective nonetheless.  Their swords are sharp enough to cut bone easily, and they will each carry a variety of other instruments.  Daggers, darts, garroting lines, that sort of thing.”

“No guns?” Harley asked in surprise.

“It depends,” Damian said. “They have no particular compunction against them, but for something as significant as my murder, they will likely rely on the old methods.  It is far more honorable and demonstrates the skill of their leader.”

Harley eased open the bedroom door a peak. “Any idea who that leader might be?”

Damian continued to hang back behind her as he’d been instructed. “Unless my grandfather’s opinion of me has changed considerably, I would assume my Aunt Nyssa.”

Harley gave him a quick look. “I thought she wasn’t the traditional type.  Why not just blow us up?”

“Nyssa has already struggled to attract followers with calls for reforms,” Damian explained. “Removing me in the old ways demonstrates her commitment to the League’s ideals.  No one would respect her if she used a bomb.”

“Don’t suppose she’s usin’ regular ninja armor by any chance?” Harley asked hopefully.

“I said traditional, not suicidal,” Damian scoffed. “Their armor is Kevlar lined and resistant to blades.  I highly recommend shooting twice.”

“I’m sure you do,” Harley muttered to herself.  Both sides of the hallway looked clear, and she moved cautiously out of the bedroom, Damian in tow.


	32. A bad feeling about this

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I first set out to write this fic, I wanted a balanced Batman. I've felt like a lot of movies and stories have managed to either get Bruce Wayne right, or Batman right, but never both at the same time. I've always found the two elements of his character, Bruce and Batman, were at odds with each other. I hoped to show a version that was at home in his place as both. However, I'm not sure I managed that very well, as the story has focused much more on Bruce than Batman. There's not a whole lot I can do about that this late in the game, but I wanted at least one proper Batman chapter. As always, hope you enjoy!

“Something’s wrong,” Bruce muttered to himself as he crouched on a crane overlooking the warehouse on the edge of the dock.

Of course, Tim and Barbara both heard him over the comm. “What is it?” Tim asked from his vantage point on a nearby building. “I don’t think they’ve seen us.”

“It’s not that,” Bruce replied. “It’s too convenient.”

“What are you talking about?” Barbara said. “It took us a week to find these guys.”

“It doesn’t matter.  Look at this place.  How long has it been since we dealt with a group this large holed up together?”

There was a pause while Barbara and Tim thought about it. “There was the drug dealers you took down a couple months ago?” Tim threw out.

“Doesn’t count,” Bruce said. “They were addicts, they hardly knew what continent they were on.  No, I’m talking about the last time we found an organized gang of criminals who tried to create a stronghold like this?  What’s left of the old crews knows better than that these days.  They divide up into small independent cells that are harder to track.  When we show up, they run.  How often do they dig in and fortify a location?”

“Maybe they’re from out of town?” Tim suggested.

“I don’t think so.  This is exactly the kind of set up Penguin used to attempt.  The placement of the turrets and the guards are almost identical to his previous outfits.”

“It can’t be Penguin,” Barbara protested. “We monitor him like a hawk, there’s no way he’d be able to arrange something like this anymore.”

“There are still a couple of his old lieutenants we never accounted for,” Tim remarked. “Maybe one of them?”

“They’d still need resources, connections, time,” Bruce observed. “You don’t just put something like this together overnight.  This requires work.  Planning.  More than just a month’s worth at any rate.”

The comm was silent again as the other two considered his words.  Eventually Tim said, “So what do you want to do?  Hold off until we have more info?”

“No, but we should be prepared for surprises,” Bruce replied. “We’ll find whoever’s in charge and make them talk.”

Leaping from the crane, Bruce plummeted to the ground, unfurling his cape as he went and turning his fall into a smooth glide.  The heads-up display flickered on in his cowl, showing the positions of every combatant on the warehouse rooftop.  In the corner of his eye, a marker showed Robin descending from the opposite side.  Oracle had already scrambled the turrets, so they flew over the perimeter undetected.

Bruce landed right behind one of the guards and wrapped a forearm around the man’s throat and a hand over his mouth to muffle his surprised cries.  In seconds his heartrate slowed, and he stopped struggling.  Bruce lowered him softly to the ground and took a moment to examine his arms and outfit.  On the face of it, he looked like just another Gotham thug, with ratty clothes and a few days stubble.  But his gun was extremely well maintained, and something about him seemed off to Bruce.

On a whim he searched the man’s neck and found a pair of dog tags. “Oracle, see what you can find,” he instructed quietly, scanning the tags.

“One second.”

While Oracle worked, Bruce set himself up for the next target.  On the other side of the rooftop, Robin was hiding behind a couple crates, waiting for her report.

“Got it,” Oracle said after a moment. “Harold Alida, thirty-six years old, former Marine.  Dishonorably discharged five years ago for killing a civilian while on deployment in Syria.  Since then he’s been working as a mercenary with Scorpio.”

“What the hell are Scorpio doing here?” Robin asked in surprise. “Since when do they run extortion rackets on low-income neighborhoods?”

“They don’t,” Bruce responded grimly. “Something else is going on here.  Move fast, Robin, we need to take them out before they realize we’re coming.”

“Copy that.”

Bruce quickly surveyed his surroundings and leapt to a railing overlooking a group of the guards.  Pulling out the new disruptor, he began disabling their weapons as fast as possible.  He managed to hit two of them before there was a cry of pain from behind him, presumably as Robin engaged his targets.

As the group turned to look for the source of the noise, Bruce leapt down, the point of his boot striking the nearest guard’s chin and sending him sprawling.  While two others fumbled with suddenly useless guns, Bruce flung a Batarang at the remaining combatant.  The projectile struck the man’s gun, throwing his aim off and giving Bruce enough time to skate across the intervening space and land a heavy side kick against the man’s sternum.  The guard went flying backward, his rifle tumbling from his hands.

The two others, realizing their guns wouldn’t work, dropped the weapons and pulled out knives, advancing on Bruce cautiously.  However, he was a step ahead of them and leapt clear over their heads, catching one by the hair and yanking him down to strike the ground, winding him.  The final guard didn’t panic, but adjusted quickly, scanning Bruce with the calm of a seasoned soldier.  Easing forward, he feinted low with the knife before abruptly slashing at Bruce’s neck.  Bruce saw the move coming and the blade clanged off his gauntlet ineffectively.  In short order, the man was disarmed and unconscious with the rest of his companions.

Bruce paused as he considered his performance with the new exoskeleton reinforcing his body.  This had been his first opportunity to put the device to use in a high intensity situation, and he was grudgingly forced to admit how effective it was.  He couldn’t remember moving as fast or striking as hard since well before his fight with Bane and perhaps not even then.  Harley would be insufferable once he told her.

Running along the rooftop, he quickly found Robin, who was in the process of dispatching his last opponent as well.  The young man’s staff twirled faster than the eye could see as it crashed against a man’s leg, dropping him to the floor with a howl of pain.  Robin silenced him with a sharp rap across the back of his neck.

“It won’t be long before they figure out we’re here,” Bruce said briskly, striding over to the rooftop entrance and tearing it open. “We hit them hard and fast.  Disruptors to neutralize firearms, smoke pellets to confuse.  Don’t take any chances but subdue them as quickly as possible.”

Robin nodded, and they descended into the warehouse.  They strode confidently, sonar imaging reassuring them that the only other enemies they faced were clustered in the central storage space.  It was just like the old days, when Bruce and the cops had struggled every day to hold back a tide of supervillains and their gangs of thugs.  In those days, they had gathered themselves in packs, thinking that if they had enough men or traps, they could finally defeat the Batman.  Today’s criminals knew better.  They had learned that their only hope for survival was the very tools Bruce himself employed; stealth, subtlety, and discretion.

Which made the situation all the more ominous to Bruce.  There was something seriously wrong about the whole thing.

They split up as they neared their targets.  Bruce found a duct that went high along the wall of the storage area, while Robin crawled through a floor grate.  They each took a moment to survey the milling group of mercenaries, all armed to the teeth with guns, knives, and grenades.  Unlike the gangs of old, this group seemed to feel very little need to boast and show off to one another.

In fact, there was very little talking at all, which just added to the mounting pile of evidence that there was something else going on.

“Do you recognize anyone, Oracle?” he muttered.

“I can’t get a good look from where you are,” she replied. “It’s too far for facial recognition.”

“Well I’ve found someone familiar,” Robin remarked quietly from his hiding point. “Take a look.”

Bruce’s HUD popped up an image from Robin’s cowl displaying a small, nervous looking man in his fifties sitting on a crate near Robin’s location.  Bruce would have recognized him regardless, but the HUD supplied his name and information nevertheless.

“Little Moe?” Oracle said incredulously. “I thought he left town years ago.”

“He did,” Bruce confirmed.  Little Moe Russo had been one of Penguin’s earliest recruits, defecting from the Maronis when Penguin began his incursions into Gotham.  In the subsequent years he’d become a lieutenant in Penguin’s growing criminal empire.  He’d never been one of the smartest of Penguin’s lackeys, but he was loyal and not inclined to the self-destructive habits that brought down so many of his peers.  His good luck had run out when he ran afoul of the Joker during a botched job, and he’d ended up fleeing Gotham for greener pastures.

Until now apparently.

“Tag him, Robin,” Bruce instructed. “Make sure he doesn’t get away.”

“You got it, boss.” A moment later, a marker appeared in his HUD, showing Moe’s position in the warehouse. “Ready when you are.”

Bruce eased open the vent and took a moment to use the disruptor on every weapon he could reach.  Then he took a handful of smoke pellets from his belt and flung them across the warehouse.

Smoke immediately filled the enclosed space, followed shortly by cries of alarm and gunshots from the few remaining functional weapons.  Bruce and his partner leapt into the chaos, easily dispatching their foes in the confusion.  The mercenaries attempted to rally, but they were simply not prepared for this kind of melee.  Every time the smoke began to dissipate, Bruce or Robin would drop another pellet, effectively preventing the mercs from being able to see anything.

Just as they were finishing off the last of the combatants, Bruce’s HUD pinged.

“Moe’s making a run for it!” Oracle’s voice came urgently over the comm.

“You’re closer,” Robin said immediately. “I can handle the rest of these guys.”

Bruce extracted himself from the brawl and fired his grapple gun at a window near the ceiling.  The device yanked him through the glass and launched him out into the night air.  His HUD showed Moe running frantically towards the cars parked along the street at the end of the dock.

Bruce landed heavily on the top of Moe’s car just as the fleeing criminal reached the vehicle.  Moe gave a shriek and fell back, tripping over his feet in his hurry to get away from the Dark Knight.  Bruce jumped off the car and slowly advanced on Moe, his pace unhurried.  The diminutive criminal kept trying to crawl backward until his back hit a crate and he huddle against the splintered wood, as if hoping it would somehow save him.

Bruce stood, glaring over the man, unspeaking.  He deliberately left his eyeplates opaque so Moe couldn’t see anything but shining white set against the black mask.  Moe looked up at him with wide, fearful eyes and trembling lips.

“Listen, Batman, this ain’t my fault!” Moe said shakily. “I swear, I didn’t wanna come back here, I didn’t!”

Bruce still didn’t say anything.

“It was this lady, see!” Moe was looking even more frantic. “She found _me_!  Said if I didn’t help her, she’d kill my wife and kids!”

Slowly, Bruce crouched down so he was looking directly at Moe’s terrified but suddenly hopeful face.  He stared at the criminal from behind his mask while Oracle pulled up a couple files.

“You don’t have a wife or kids, Moe,” he said eventually in his softest, deadliest voice.  Moe’s face crumpled, and Bruce seized the front of his jacket, yanking him into the air and turning to dangle him over the edge of the dock.

“No, don’t drop me!” Moe cried in panic. “Come on, I can’t swim!”

Bruce knew that and was counting on Moe’s fear to loosen his tongue. “Tell me the truth, and maybe I won’t toss you to the sharks!  Why are you back?”

Moe gripped Bruce’s arm desperately. “Okay, okay!  I’ll tell ya everything!  I wasn’t lyin, there was this lady!  Scary lookin’ lady!  She found me and said she wanted me to come back to Gotham and help out with a job!  Said she wanted me to set up a gang like the old days.  ‘Cept she already had all these guys she wanted me to work with.  Made no sense, Bats, but she offered me a couple million bucks to do it.  I couldn’t say no!”

Bruce glared at him, ignoring the idiocy of this last part. “What was her name?”

“She didn’t tell me, I swear!  I barely even saw her face!  She just told me what she wanted me to do and set me up with these merc guys.  I told her no way that’d fly with you these days, but she said that was the whole point!  Said I just had to distract you a bit!  I wasn’t even sure she was serious, I thought maybe it was just a big joke or somethin’ til you showed up tonight!  I wasn’t tryin’ to do nothin’ bad, honest!  You gotta believe me!”

All the pieces began falling into place.  Moe’s entire outfit, the nature of his heists, the way he’d set up the warehouse, it had all been deliberate.  A ploy to gain Bruce’s attention.  Someone had arranged the entire thing to keep him occupied.  But who?

“What did the woman look like?” he demanded of Moe.

“Like I said, I barely saw her.  But I snuck a photo of her!” Moe hastened to add, as if afraid of disappointing the Batman. “When she wasn’t lookin!  See, here!”

Slowly, Moe, reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone.  Flipping through it, he turned the screen so Bruce could see the slightly blurred, shadowy profile of the woman who had orchestrated the whole thing.

The moment he saw the photo, Bruce’s blood began to run cold, as if _he’d_ fallen into the river.  He tossed Moe back onto the dock and immediately began sprinting away, not bothering to see what became of the criminal.

“Oracle!” he barked urgently into the comm. “Shut down the Batcave!  Contact Harley and tell her they’re under attack!”

There was a second of silence while Oracle worked, during which Bruce ran as fast as he could to where he’d parked the Batmobile.  When her voice came back, it was with a note of panic. “I can’t!  My uplink to the cave’s been cut!  I think someone’s there already!”

Her words spurred Bruce to somehow run even faster. “Call Lucius!  Get us back into the network immediately!  Get Nightwing on a jet from Bludhaven!”

“On it!” she replied tersely.

“Batman, what’s happening?” Robin asked urgently as Oracle fell silent.

“This was all just a distraction, something to get us out of the way,” Bruce bit out.  He cursed himself for not noticing that the warehouse was as far away from the Manor as it was possible to get and still be in Gotham. “The Cave is under attack.  Wait until Gordon gets here then get to Alfred and make sure he’s safe.”

He reached the Batmobile and flung himself into the driver’s seat. Charlie looked up in alarm, but he had no time to comfort the startled dog.  Throwing all pretense of safety to the wind, he flew through the streets of Gotham as fast as he could, clipping light poles and missing cars by inches, hoping against all hope he would get there in time.

In his gut, he knew wouldn’t…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> P.S. I just saw Rise of Skywalker tonight, so it's in my head, hence the title...


	33. Crazy is as crazy does

Harley paused and leaned against the wall of the stairwell, breathing heavily.  She wiped sweat from her eyes and looked over at Damian, who was similarly disheveled.

“Well that wasn’t so bad,” she remarked.

Damian gave her a look of utmost incredulity. “We barely made through alive.”

“Yeah, like I said, not bad.” Harley checked the load on her shotgun and added a couple more shells.  Getting through the house had required more ammo than she would have liked, along with all but one of her stun grenades.  She’d also lost her knife belt and was now forced to carry one of Damian’s throwing knives awkwardly jammed inside her vest.  Both of them were bleeding from several cuts, none of them lethal, but painful enough to slow them down.

“Perhaps we should reassess our strategy,” Damian suggested. “I find it extremely unlikely that we will be able to defeat whatever forces Nyssa has stationed in the cave.”

Harley shook her head. “Too late, we’re already committed.  C’mon, lets get going before they figure out where we are.”

Reluctantly, Damian followed her down the winding staircase to the Batcave.  They walked slowly, alert for any sign that of someone coming up or down the stairs.  But it seemed the confusion they’d caused in the manor had been sufficient to distract their enemies for the moment.

When they reached the door to the cave, Harley slid it the tiniest bit open to look inside.  She could really only see the Batcomputer, where yet another ninja sat in Bruce’s chair, hands flying over the keyboard.  A formidable looking woman paced behind her, hands on her hips.

“You’re seriously telling me he doesn’t have cameras on every inch of this damn house?!” the woman barked angrily.

The computer ninja’s response was terse. “I don’t know, Mistress.  I had to shut down the whole mainframe to disable communications and countermeasures.  If I’m not careful in how I power the computer back up, those systems will come back online too.”

The large woman turned and swore loudly. “Marika, have you got them yet?”

A voice came back over a comm. “No, Mistress.  We almost cornered them near one of the ballrooms, but they escaped.  We took casualties.  Uma is dead.”

The woman swore again. “Find them!  Make sure you disable all the vehicles and tell the perimeter to be on the lookout in case they make a run on foot!  And you!” She turned back to the computer ninja. “Get those damn cameras online!”

“That’s Nyssa,” Damian whispered in Harley’s ear.

Harley had figured as much; there was a certain aura she gave off that made it clear she was used to being in charge.  Not unlike Damian, as a matter of fact.  There was something even more dangerous about Nyssa however, and Harley had a sudden, swooping sensation in her stomach.

Gently, she closed the door to the cave and moved a few steps back into the stairwell.

“What’s the plan?” Damian asked immediately. “The flash grenade might create enough confusion for us to take them by surprise.”

“Not a bad idea,” Harley admitted, “but no, that’s not what we’re gonna do.”

“What then?”

Harley took a deep breath and steeled herself. “I’m gonna go out first.  I’ll use the grenade, like you said, then I’ll charge them.  That should distract ‘em enough for you to get away.”

Damian blinked at her. “Excuse me?  What do you mean get away?”

Harley laid a hand on the young man’s shoulder. “Look, Damian, we ain’t both gettin’ outta this.  There’s too many of ‘em, and they’re way too well prepared.  This is your only shot to get clear before they find us.”

“We could both hide in the house or grounds?”

Harley shook her head. “Wouldn’t work for long.  You heard her, they’re about to get the cameras back up.”

“It might be enough,” Damian countered. “As soon as Father realizes what’s happening, he’ll come straight back.  He might even be on the way already.”

Harley wasn’t bending. “We can’t take that chance.  We don’t got a clue what kinda situation your dad’s in.  Might be they got a hold of him.  Or held him up.  Either way we can’t just sit around and hope he’ll show up.”

Damian set his jaw. “Fine.  I still don’t see why _I_ should flee.  Why can’t I stay and fight and _you_ run to safety?”

“Cuz that ain’t how this works.  I’m runnin’ this show, and I say _you’re_ gettin’ outta here.  You wait til I get their attention, then you sneak down to the bottom, grab a breather and swim out the channel.” Damian opened his mouth to object again, but she cut over him. “No!  No more arguin.’  You’re goin’ and that’s the end of that!  Bruce can find himself another girlfriend with personality issues, but he’s _not_ gonna lose another kid!  Not if I got anythin’ to say about it!”

Damian glared at her, but she’d been glared at by professionals, and he was smart enough to figure out it wasn’t working. “Fine!  Shall I bring Father a message of some sort in the likely eventuality that this ridiculous plan gets you killed?”

The question took Harley off guard, but she realized that it would be a bit of a dick move not to leave Bruce with some small piece of comfort.

“Tell him I don’t regret nothin’ and I wouldn’t have traded the last months for anything,” she said softly. “And to look after my babies.”

Damian nodded shortly. “I shall.  Whenever you’re ready then.”

Harley stood, taking another steadying breath. “Make sure you wait til they’re all lookin’ the other way.”

“I know how to avoid being seen,” Damian said, sounding insulted.

“Alright then.  See you on the other side, kid.”

Doing one last check on her equipment, Harley kicked the door open and hurled the last stun grenade right at Nyssa before throwing herself behind the Batcomputer and closing her eyes tight.  Even so, she saw the light flash against her eyelids and heard several people cry out in surprise.

Rising, she rounded the Batcomputer and surveyed the scene.  Three ninjas, including computer girl, were reeling, blinking in an attempt to clear their eyes.  Nyssa was somehow on the other side of the platform, not at all stunned, staring at Harley in rage.

“Hey there, bitch!” Harley said with the widest, craziest smile she could summon. “You must be new in town!  Let me give you a nice Gotham welcome!”

With that she turned and, from point blank range, unloaded the shotgun on computer ninja.  12-gauge pellets struck the woman, a few hitting the Lucite protected circuitry as well.  The Lucite held.

The ninja didn’t.

In full stride, Harley shot the other two dazed ninjas.  One of them managed to dodge enough that she was merely clipped instead of totally blown away.

“You fucked with the wrong trophy bimbo!” she screamed, now turning her attention to the other ninjas, of which she could see about six. “You come into MY house!  Mess up MY decorations!”

She shot another ninja who tried to make a leap for her.

“For fuck’s sake, we JUST finished renovating!”

The ninjas started getting wise and began circling her, dodging and leaping like demented cartoon characters.  Harley was forced to spin in a circle, letting off a round whenever one of them got close.  She managed to take one more out before the shotgun ran dry.  Everyone paused for a brief second as the trigger clicked.  Harley giggled nervously, then threw the gun and charged the nearest ninja.

She fought as hard as she could, kicking and punching and even biting, but there were four of them, and in the end she didn’t stand a chance.  Before she was even fully aware of it, she was on her knees with two of the ninjas forcing her arms back to immobilize her.  She struggled, but their grips were like iron. 

A pair of boots marched into her view, and Nyssa knelt down to look her in the eye.  Like the rest of her minions, the lower part of her face was covered by an ornate mask, but her eyes were bright with rage the likes of which Harley hadn’t seen since leaving Arkham.

“Where is the boy?”

“He flew away and joined the circus,” Harley taunted defiantly.

Nyssa’s eyes flashed dangerously. “Don’t toy with me, clown!  I don’t share my father’s misguided obsession with Bruce Wayne and his ilk.  I would happily tear your heart out and feed it to the dogs.  Tell me where the boy is, and I’ll consider making your death quick.”

“I got a better idea,” Harley offered. “Why don’t you go and fuck yourself on a rhino horn.  Cuz I ain’t tellin’ you shit!”

“Cute,” the assassin spit. “I’m sure the Joker found you highly entertaining.”

“We had a great laugh when I put him in jail,” Harley said. “But I think it’ll be funnier to cut your throat and watch you bleed out.”

Nyssa made a noise of frustration and stood up to pace the cave. “What is it with the filthy denizens of this cesspit?!  My father should have wiped this place from the face of the planet the moment your inbred ancestors crawled out of the mud!”

There was a murmur of agreement from the group of ninjas. “She didn’t even have the courage to face us without a weapon,” one said.

Nyssa nodded. “What else would you expect from these cretins.  They have no sense of civilization or honor.”

Harley narrowed her eyes.  The words were automatic, as if memorized, and she remembered what Damian had said about Nyssa’s standing among the League.  An absolutely ridiculous idea popped into her head.

“Alright,” she said. “You want to act civilized?  Fine.  Let’s throw down, sister, you and me, no weapons.  You win, I’ll tell you where Damian is.  I win, you get your pyscho ass outta here and never come back.”

Nyssa scoffed. “And why should I lower myself to fight you when I could simply torture the information out of you instead?”

Harley did her best to shrug with her arms restrained as they were. “Hey, you’re the one comin’ in here talkin’ about civilization and honor.  You don’t want me to use weapons, well here I am offerin.’  I thought you’d be all about that, but if that’s not your deal then go ahead with the torture I guess…”

The look the ninjas gave one another was felt rather than seen, but Harley noticed it.  So, apparently, did Nyssa, who looked suspiciously at her followers before coming to kneel in front of Harley again.

“Why should I trust that you’ll keep your word when I best you?” she hissed. “Your life is nothing but deception and indecency!”

Harley rolled her eyes. “C’mon, you want me to swear on a Bible or somethin?  I promise, if your scrawny ass manages to beat me somehow, I’ll fess up and everything.  Cross my heart.” Nyssa still looked disbelieving. “Hey, if I don’t, you can always torture me anyway, just for fun.  Course, you’re not gonna beat me, cuz you’re all show.”

Even through the mask, Harley could see Nyssa snarling. “Release her!”

Abruptly, Harley’s arms were free and she fell forward, catching herself on the cold metal platform.  She stood, rubbing some feeling back into her hands and wrists.  Nyssa had taken up a position a few yards away and was busy divesting herself of her weaponry.  Harley made a show of taking off her empty ammo belt and tossing it to the side.  The remaining ninjas encircled the two, swords unsheathed and held in front of their faces ritualistically.

“Whenever you’re ready, clown,” Nyssa said, radiating disdain.

Harley knew that giving her the first move was a sign of her lack of concern or respect for Harley as an opponent.  Which was fine with Harley, she wasn’t picky.

So she tried the same move that had worked so well on Tim and leapt at Nyssa, screaming like a demented banshee.  Nyssa’s eyes widened for the briefest moment, but she reacted shockingly fast, dancing out of the way.  Harley turned her leap into a front handspring that bought her a little room while she turned to face the assassin.

Nyssa was charging, as expected, fists raised.  Harley attempted to slip out of the way and catch the other woman with a side kick to wind her.  Nyssa took the full force of the kick and didn’t stop.  Harley was thrown off balance unexpectedly and struggled to retain her feet.  Nyssa was on her in a second, fists and feet flashing out blindingly fast as Harley fell back, attempting to protect herself.

It was like fighting Bruce himself.  Harley couldn’t remember anyone else who displayed such a perfect blend of technique, speed, and ferocity.  She managed to get a couple hits in, but it was like Nyssa didn’t even notice them, and she was forced to give more and more ground under the onslaught.  She only stopped when her back hit something solid and there was nowhere left to run. 

Nyssa didn’t let up, raining blow upon blow down on Harley’s already battered body.  The world was just a blur as Harley struggled to remain standing and conscious, no longer even trying to fight back.  All she could do was attempt to protect her head and other vulnerable points as much as possible.  She didn’t have much luck though, and she felt a couple ribs crack under the onslaught.

The only reprieve came when Harley’s legs finally gave out and she started to collapse.  Nyssa didn’t let her though.  She caught Harley around the throat and propped her up against the wall, her feet dangling in the air.

Nyssa shoved her face close to Harley’s, eyes crazed. “Just as pathetic as that pretender you’ve been whoring yourself out to!  What made you think you could _ever_ stand against me in a fair fight?!”

Harley coughed around the other woman’s iron grip, before managing to croak, “What made _you_ think I was ever gonna fight fair?”

Nyssa’s brow furrowed in confusion, but before she could figure it out, Harley yanked Damian’s throwing knife from inside her vest and buried it in the assassin’s throat.  Nyssa’s eyes widened, and she attempted to pull away, but Harley tore the knife free, opening a gash from ear to ear.

Nyssa stumbled back, her hands going to her throat in an attempt to stem the sudden flow of blood.  Harley dropped to her knees, also grasping her already bruised neck as she tried to breathe.  But she didn’t look away from the would-be leader of the League of Shadows as the life bled out of her.

“Toldja,” she said smugly.

Nyssa stared back, incredulous, right up until the moment she died.

For a second, the only sounds in the cave were the flapping of wings and Harley’s labored breathing.  The assassins couldn’t take tear their gaze away from their fallen leader, apparently just as surprised at her sudden demise.  Harley was able to push herself back to her feet as they did.  Finally, one of them snapped up to look at Harley.

“Trickster!” she shrieked. “Vile snake!”

Another shouted into her comm, “Get to the cave!  Lady Nyssa has been slain!”

Harley had only a moment to adjust her grip on her knife before they charged her, shouting.  She braced herself for the sting of blades piercing her skin, but they never came.  As the nearest ninja raised her sword, a line of black cord wrapped around her arms and yanked her back.  At the same moment, a small figure flew over the ninjas and landed in front of Harley, staff held protectively in front of him.  Damian glared out at the assassins, daring them to attack.

“Thought I told you to run,” Harley rasped.

Damian spared her a single, disparaging look. “Did you honestly think I would listen?”

“Guess I shouldn’t have.” Harley moved to stand next to him. “Thanks for not.”

“Next time I will if you don’t pick a fight somewhere else,” Damian said irritably. “You blocked all the good equipment.  I had to use Drake’s.  _Drake’s_!”

Harley glanced behind her and saw that she’d been cornered against the weapons locker.  Discarding the puny knife, she grabbed her hammer. “Sorry about that.  I’ll make it up to you.”

There was no more time for banter after that, as the ninjas had rallied and were once again on the attack.  This time they moved with a modicum of caution, not letting their anger at the treacherous murder of their leader was impair their better judgment.

However, like Tim, they had no idea how to fight a crazy woman with a giant hammer.

The first ninja who tried to block Harley’s hammer with her sword ended up flat on the ground with a pile of broken ribs.  The rest learned pretty quickly to just dodge, but they still failed to understand exactly what they were dealing with.  Between her time as a gymnast and many years of education, Harley had a very strong understanding of physics.  She never tried to arrest the swing of her hammer when she missed; she just let the momentum continue, applying enough pressure to direct it where she wanted.  The result was a whirlwind of destruction and chaos that none of the ninjas dared approach.

Damian, for his part, was taking on his enemies with a similar, if less showy, efficiency.  He wielded the staff like he’d been born with it, redirecting blades by a hairsbreadth, rapping skulls, and breaking legs.  Every movement was seamless and controlled, befitting of the son of Batman.

After she’d crushed her third ninja under her hammer, Harley began to wonder why they were still fighting.  There had only been four others in the cave with them, besides Nyssa, yet every time she looked up, there were more goddam ninjas!  Belatedly, she remembered that one had announced Nyssa’s death and called the rest back to the cave.  They were pouring in, forming a wall of black against her vision and threating to overwhelm her.

Finally, Harley found herself back to back with Damian, completely surrounded by close to two dozen furious assassins.  As if by agreement, they all paused for the briefest moment.

“Well, it was nice knowin’ you kid,” Harley said, unable to restrain the insane grin that spread across her face.

“Indeed,” Damian said, sounding as casual as if one of them was just moving away. “I enjoyed the opportunity to fight with you, Harley.”

“You too, Damian.  By the way, pretty sure I got more than you.”

Damian’s indignant reply was lost amidst a sudden deafening roar that echoed through the cave.  Everyone, ninjas included, turned to look as a monstrous vehicle broke through the waterfall and tore towards the main platform.  It looked like what would happen if a tank and a race car had a terrifying, weaponized baby.  Cannons, guns, and all manner of other devices dotted the heavily armored surface, and she knew from experience that there were many more under the surface, just waiting to be deployed.

For the first time in her life, Harley felt a sense of relief at the sight of the Batmobile, and she let out a whooping cheer. She expected the riot gun to begin firing at any moment, but to her surprise, the car skidded to a screeching halt without any of the weapons lighting up.  There was a hydraulic hiss, and a dark shape flew from the top of the car.  For the briefest moment, wings like a bat’s were silhouetted against the ceiling.

Then the Dark Knight was among them.

Harley and Damian rejoined the melee, but they might as well have sat back on the sides and eaten popcorn.  Batman, for in that moment Harley’s brain could not think of him as anything other than the moniker that had for so long struck fear into the hearts of Gotham’s underworld, moved through the ninjas like a vengeful spirit.  He fought with a ferocity that made her want to crawl into a corner and hide.  She’d thought she’d seen Batman cut loose before, during some of Joker’s more heinous crimes, but she was wrong.

He’d been holding back.

Bones cracked and bodies littered the cave as Batman tore through their ranks as if they were nothing more than paper dummies.  Where he went, pain followed, until there was no one left to stand against him.

When it was over, Batman stood in the middle of a circle of unconscious or broken foes, breathing heavily, and looking to Harley as if he wanted to tear off into the night in search of more opponents, more _victims_ , to punish.  His gaze fell upon them, and Harley couldn’t help taking an instinctive step back in fear.  Even at the height of her criminal career, she’d never seen his face filled with such rage. For the briefest moment, she saw past the mask he never took off, even around her, and to the endless wellspring of pain and anger that had sustained his crusade for nearly two decades.

It was the single most terrifying thing she had ever seen.

Then the moment was gone, and he was Bruce again.  Sweet, loving Bruce, whose expression was one of utter and profound relief.  He tore the cowl off and race across the cave to meet them, gathering Damian and Harley close.  He clung to them desperately, as if afraid they’d vanish if he let go.

“I tried,” he whispered into Harley’s neck. “I tried to get here faster.  I knew something was wrong, but I didn’t figure it out quick enough.  I should have been here, I should have protected you!”

“It’s okay,” Harley said, her legs feeling weak. “We’re all okay.  It’s fine now.”

“Yes, Father, did you have so little faith in us?” Damian added.

Bruce drew back, his cheeks streaked with tears. “I don’t understand?  How did you survive so long?”

“Oh come on!” Harley scoffed. “Takes more than a few ninjas to get the best of me.  Couple dozen more in fact.”

***

It took a little while to sort everything out, but eventually they managed to get the computer back online and retake control of the cave.  Along the way they took inventory of the dead and wounded attackers.  Around three dozen members of Nyssa splinter group had accompanied her on the mission.  Of these, six were dead by Harley’s hand, including Nyssa herself.  The rest had suffered various injuries ranging from concussions, to flash blindness, to numerous broken bones.

There was some disagreement about what to do with them.  Calling the cops was out of the question, it would raise far too many eyebrows.  Damian was of the opinion that they should simply kill them all and dispose of the bodies.  Despite herself, Harley was somewhat inclined to agree.

Bruce, Tim, and Dick (when he arrived) were less willing to slaughter twenty some people, although Harley could tell that Bruce was sorely tempted.  The fire that had burned in his eyes as he tore through the assassins never quite went away.  It flared up when he saw Nyssa’s body.

“I should be regretful that she’s dead,” he said softly, looking down at her corpse. “But I’m not.  I’m glad.”

“Good, that makes two of us,” Harley said nonchalantly. “She was one crazy ass bitch.”

Bruce looked at her. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

“I told you I’m fine,” she replied exasperatedly. “I don’t got the same problems you do with killin’ people, Bruce, especially in self-defense.  This ain’t the first crazy person I had to put down.  It’d be nice if it was the last, but if any more psychos with swords come after your kid, I’m happy to take ‘em out for you.”

Bruce smiled faintly. “Damian told me everything.  Thank you for fighting for him.  And for not giving him a gun.”

“It was tempting,” Harley admitted, half-jokingly. “Whole thing woulda been way easier.”

“I know.” Bruce looked back at Nyssa’s body. “But still, thank you.  I know this wasn’t what you bargained for.”

Harley reached up a hand to cup Bruce’s face. “Hey, I’ve got your back.  Don’t think this is changin’ my mind.  Like I told Damian, I don’t regret nothin.”

In the end, they decided to let their assailants go. The death of their leader and their stunning defeat at Bruce’s hands took most of the fight out of them. Bruce extracted a promise from each and every one of them that they would not attempt any form of retaliation and would never return to Gotham.

Harley was more than a little skeptical of this promise, but Damian reassured her that they would honor their oaths. And just to be safe, Bruce injected each of them with a sophisticated tracker that Lucius had designed. It attached to the brain stem, making it impossible to remove without killing the host.

Harley shivered when he unveiled this gadget. “Not that I’m complainin’ but how come you didn’t use that on all of us back in the day.”

Bruce’s expression was grim. “Gordon wouldn’t approve. It was too violent, even for someone like the Joker. In this case, though, I’ll make an exception.”

And so it was that a procession of bruised, bleeding, microchipped assassins limped out of the cave under the watchful eye of Bruce, Tim, and Dick. Only once their trackers confirmed that they were well away form Gotham and showing no signs of turning back, did they allow themselves to relax.

Even then, Harley was still too wound up to fight. Walking over to the Batcomputer, she pulled up a schematic of the cave and got Oracle on video.

“Everyone get over here!” she called to the cave’s occupants. With a mixture of curiosity, apprehension, and uncertainty, they gathered around her. “Alright, we’re makin’ some changes. I ain’t lettin’ this happen again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thus concludes our detour from sappy Batquinn fluff. Sorry for skipping some of Harley's John Wick shenanigans, but I honestly have a really hard time writing action scenes.


	34. Guess who's coming to dinner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ra's al Ghul is one of my favorite of the Batman villains. Joker is classic, but I love the dynamic between Ra's and Batman; how similar they are in so many ways. While I wasn't looking to have a proper villain in this fic, I couldn't resist giving Ra's at least a small cameo. Hope you enjoy!

The slightest whisper of the air was the only indication that Bruce was not alone in the cave.  He doubted anyone else, even Dick, would have noticed the change, but this was his home, his lair.  He’d spent most of his adult life surrounded by these rock walls and their inhabitants.  No one could sneak up on him here.

“I’m not in the mood for more games, Ra’s,” he spoke into the darkness, not looking up from the computer.

The soft baritone reply came from close behind him. “Nor am I, Detective.  Yet we have business, you and I.”

Bruce huffed a sigh and turned to face his unwanted guests.  Ra’s stood in the middle of the cave as if he’d never left, looking just as regal and haughty as ever.  The differences were clear though; instead of the elaborate silks he’d once worn, he was now clad in a full suit of body armor not unlike Bruce’s.  A sword hung on one hip, a gun on the other, and Bruce was positive the dark green cape contained a myriad of deadly items.

Ra’s also looked much younger than the last time Bruce had seen him, two years prior.  These details, coupled with the fact that his companion was not Ubu, but a new hulking bodyguard led Bruce to conclude that some recent injury had killed or incapacitated Ubu and necessitated a trip to a Lazarus Pit for Ra’s.  By Bruce’s best guess, that meant there were at most only four of the pits left in the whole world.  Assuming Ra’s was in a position to utilize them for their intended purposes, and that they didn’t drive him completely insane first, that meant he had at most about five decades left.  Likely less, given Bruce’s calculations about their recent efficacy.  Ra’s was now living on borrowed time.

He took all this in with a glance, a fact that didn’t escape Ra’s.  The ancient leader of the League of Shadows gave an ironic twitch of his lips. “Ever the detective.”

There was an almost wistful note in his voice that Bruce did not care for one bit. “What do you want Ra’s?”

Ra’s drew himself up imperiously. “I have come for my grandson.”

Bruce narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “Damian?  Why?  You left him here to keep him safe.”

“And Nyssa has been dealt with. The danger has now passed.”

“I can’t say I agree,” Bruce replied calmly, not budging an inch.

Ra’s cocked his head. “Is it her followers that concern you, Detective. Because I assure you, you need not worry any longer.” He gestured to new Ubu, who flung a small pouch at Bruce’s feet. A set of familiar looking trackers spilled out across the floor. Trackers tinged with red.

“A clever precaution,” Ra’s remarked with a slight smirk. “But ultimately unnecessary. There are always more efficient ways.”

Bruce forced himself to stay expressionless, despite the bile rising in his stomach. “Nyssa wasn’t the only source of danger in your world, Ra’s.”

“Indeed,” Ra’s allowed easily. “One might same the say for yours as well. Nevertheless, it is now time for Damian to take his place at my side in the League.”

“No.” The refusal came easily to Bruce’s lips.  There was no way he would allow Ra’s to take Damian anywhere if he could help it.

Ra’s arched an eyebrow, and the new Ubu’s eyes widened in shock and indignation.  He reached down for the sword at his side before Bruce’s gaze fell on him.

“Do you want to tell him what happened to the last person who drew a sword in this cave?” he said to Ra’s. “Or should I just have Harley show him?”

Ra’s seemed to consider Bruce’s words for a moment before raising a hand to his guard, who reluctantly slid his weapon back into its sheath.

“I’m afraid I fail to understand the issue, Detective,” Ra’s said, his voice reasonable, but with an undertone of menace. “I made clear when I entrusted Damian to your care that I would one day return for him.”

“Then you should have given him to someone else,” Bruce replied bluntly. “He’s my son.  I’m not letting you take him.”

Ra’s’ expression tightened. “You were not even aware of his existence until recently.  I am mindful of your penchant for collecting children, but surely you have not grown so attached to him in that short a time.”

Bruce clenched his jaw. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand.  How many children have you let die over the years when you could have saved them?”

“Only those who were unworthy of living,” Ra’s responded without hesitation.

“Including Talia?” Bruce shot back.

Something flickered in Ra’s’ eyes, but he rallied quickly. “Talia’s death was unfortunate, but she fulfilled her purpose.  It would have been foolish to expend valuable resources bringing her back.”

“That kind of thinking is exactly why I’m keeping Damian,” Bruce said definitively. “Find another pawn.”

The air around Ra’s seemed to shimmer dangerously, and he took a step forward. “This visit was a courtesy, Detective.  I would rather not do battle with you, but I will if I must.”

“You can’t beat me, Ra’s,” Bruce said calmly. “We’ve proven that more than once.”

“Perhaps not on my own,” Ra’s allowed, “but did you truly think I came here with a single guard?”

As if on cue, a dozen black clad shapes began emerging from the shadows, moving to stand in a semicircle in front of Bruce and the Batcomputer.  Each one was outfitted with the same type of armor and weapons as Ra’s, their faces hidden behind ominous masks.  Ra’s’ expression had turned triumphant.

Bruce considered the assembled assassins nonchalantly. “No, I didn’t, Ra’s. Did _you_ think I would face you alone?”

From high up in the rafters, there was a rustle of fabric, and a moment later two heavily armored combatants dropped onto the platform at the edges of Ra’s’ guard.  Dick twirled his electrified escrima sticks in his hands, grinning widely, while Tim glared out from under his hood.  The ninjas drew their swords and spun to face these new threats.

Ra’s’ expression lost some of its gloating quality, but he wasn’t going to give up so easily. “It seems I still retain the numerical advantage.”

That was technically true, but Bruce knew that the three of them were a match for any two of the ninjas at least.  And he had one last card to play.  A tap on his wrist gauntlet armed the newly installed, high caliber, automatic turrets lining the walls of the cave.  Ra’s and his ninjas looked up as four barrels spun to acquire targets.

“An empty threat,” Ra’s said, although he now looked terse. “We both know you will not kill me.”

“Do we?” Bruce countered. “People trying to kill my son may have changed my mind.  Do you want to take that risk?  Even if you escaped, I’d make sure you’d need a trip to a Lazarus Pit.  Can you really afford to use another right now?”

Ra’s narrowed his eyes, and Bruce waited to see if the crafty old man would call Bruce’s bluff.  Truthfully, he wasn’t sure if he was willing to kill Ra’s, and he sincerely hoped he wouldn’t have to find out today.  The threat might be enough to deter Ra’s.

Maybe…

Before either of them could come to a decision about what to do, the comm chimed. “Father?”

Bruce didn’t look away from Ra’s. “Not a good time, Damian.”

Damian’s voice was perfectly calm, as always. “I understand, Father, but I believe I may have a compromise that would satisfy all involved.”

Both Bruce and Ra’s looked at the computer in surprise. “Alright,” Bruce said eventually, “what is it?”

“I would prefer to make my proposal in person,” Damian replied. “If that is agreeable?”

It was definitely _not_ agreeable to Bruce, but he knew how stubborn Damian could get when he set his mind to something.  If Damian wanted to see Ra’s in the flesh, there was very little Bruce could do short of physically restraining him.

“It is perfectly agreeable to me,” Ra’s interjected, having regained some of his composure.

Bruce gritted his teeth. “Fine.  Harley and Alfred, I want you with him.”

“Understood, Master Bruce,” Alfred’s voice sounded over the comm.

They waited a tense few minutes for Damian to arrive, no one speaking, and no one daring to relax.  Finally, the doors to the stairway opened, and Alfred emerged, clad in full tactical gear, an assault rifle cradled in his arms.  For the first time, Bruce properly allowed himself to consider Harley’s theories about his butler’s origins.  It had sounded ridiculous at the time, but now, seeing the calm, precise way Alfred carried the gun, and the professional look in his eyes as he scanned the cave, he wondered how he’d never noticed it before.

Alfred was a soldier.  And a dangerous one too.

He signaled briefly behind him, and Harley came into view, similarly attired.  The shotgun looked too large in her hands, but Bruce had seen the aftermath of her skill with the weapon.  He was also pretty sure he’d never seen her so serious in the decade he’d known her.  Damian followed closely in her wake, his hands unusually free of weapons of any kind.

Harley and Alfred stopped well short of the ring of tense combatants, Harley reaching out a hand to stop Damian from coming any closer.  He frowned but didn’t attempt to push past her.

“Hello, Damian,” Ra’s said formally from inside the ring of ninjas. “You look well.  I trust the past two years have been kind to you?”

“Very kind, thank you Grandfather,” Damian responded in equal formality. “It is quite agreeable to see you.  How is Hannibal?  Is he receiving proper exercise?”

“Damian,” Bruce interrupted, trying to hold onto his patience. “You may have noticed we have a bit of a situation here.  Do you want to save the reminiscences for later and tell us about your compromise?”

“Of course, Father,” the unflappable youth said. “While I recognize both of your claims to my custody, I cannot help but feel my preferences are not being taken into account in this deliberation, and I would like the opportunity to speak for myself.”

Bruce and Ra’s exchanged another, slightly incredulous look. “You’re a little young to decide something this important,” Bruce commented.

“Perhaps, but were you not younger than I am currently when you decided to pursue vigilantism?” Damian pointed out. “It would seem age is not always a relevant factor when making such choices.”

It was an excellent argument, and Bruce heard Dick chuckled slightly from off to the side. “Fine.  Go ahead then.”

“Very well, Damian,” Ra’s agreed. “We shall listen to what you have to say.”

“Thank you, Father.  Grandfather.” Damian assumed a wide stance, his arms behind his back, as if making a proclamation. “I have spent a great deal of time considering both of your perspectives.  You both seek societal improvement, albeit through vastly different means.  Having been raised by you, Grandfather,” he nodded at Ra’s, “I am highly inclined to be sympathetic to your goals.

“However,” he went on, raising a finger, and turning to Bruce, “in the last two years I have also come to respect your perspective on morality, Father, although I do not always understand it.  That being said, I am still learning a great deal about your life and choices.  I have spent a more time with the League of Shadows, after all.

“Here is my proposal then.  I was granted nine years with the League.  I would like to also spend nine years in Gotham.  Grandfather can return on my eighteenth birthday, by which time I will have made my decision regarding my future.  I will be a legal adult under modern laws at that time, and free to make my own choices.  Is this a satisfactory solution?”

Truth be told, it was not a satisfactory solution for Bruce.  If he had his way, Damian would never have contact with the League again.  But he knew deep down that option was out of his control.  At a certain point, he’d have to let Damian choose his own path in the world.

Once again, Bruce and Ra’s looked at one another, and he could tell that Ra’s was thinking along the same lines.  He also knew that Ra’s was calculating the costs and benefits of allowing Bruce to retain custody of Damian for another seven years.  It was possible that Ra’s might require another Lazarus treatment by then, which would be one less Pit that Damian would have access to, should he join the League.  The few that were left might allow Damian an extra century or two of life, given that he hadn’t used them before.  But Bruce knew that Ra’s would rather Damian have the use of more.

However, if Ra’s tried to push the issue now and take Damian by force, he ran the risk of severe injury, or perhaps even defeat.  Further, Damian had expressed a preference for remaining with Bruce for the time being, and Ra’s had to know from long experience how hard it was to change a stubborn child’s mind.

Bruce could tell when Ra’s reached his decision, and they nodded to one another.  Turning to Damian, Ra’s gave a tiny bow of respect. “Very well, Damian.  I agree that you shall remain with your father for the next seven years.”

Damian returned the nod with one of his own before looking at Bruce. “And you, Father?  Do you agree to allow the League to return at that time?”

Bruce took a heavy, resigned breath. “Alright, Damian, if that’s what you want.”

“It is,” Damian affirmed. “Then it seems we have reached an agreement.”

“Indeed we have.” Ra’s signaled to the ninjas, who promptly straightened up and sheathed their swords.  Likewise, Tim, Dick, and Alfred relaxed their stances slightly, although Harley still kept a tight hold on her shotgun.

“Detective, would you allow me a moment with my grandson before I depart?” Ra’s asked.

Bruce was tempted to say no, but that probably wasn’t the right note to leave their meeting on.  Reluctantly he nodded. “As long as your guards leave first.”

“Very well,” Ra’s allowed.  He snapped a quick order in the League’s secret language and the ninjas began marching out of the cave through the tunnel entrance.  Bruce wondered if any of them knew that they had only managed to disable two layers of the cave’s security.  Since Nyssa’s attack, they had been working day and night to increase the cave’s defenses.  Harley had been particularly driven, and the place was now a fortress the likes of which the world had probably never seen.  Bruce had known Ra’s was coming from a mile away.

Only once all the ninjas were out of sight did Harley and Alfred allow Damian to join Ra’s, who was waiting patiently in the center of the platform.  As the demon bent down to speak quietly with his grandson, Bruce walked over to Tim and Dick.

“Your kid really knows how to ruin a good time,” Dick said. “I didn’t even get to fight a ninja.  You know how long it’s been since I fought a ninja?”

“The night’s not over,” Bruce told them quietly. “Follow them.  Make sure they behave.”

Dick grinned and promptly set off running.  Tim shook his head ruefully and followed more sedately.  Bruce turned back to see Ra’s kneeling in front of Damian with a hand on his shoulder.  He couldn’t hear what they were saying, and he doubted he’d be able to understand them even if he could.  Ra’s and his people spoke a language whose origin was a mystery even to Bruce.  Even know he knew Barbara was attempting yet another translation program, and probably tearing her hair out in frustration when it came up blank.

He moved to stand next to Harley, who hadn’t taken her eyes of Damian, or her hand off the shotgun.  Alfred was similarly vigilant a short distance away.

“Did he tell you his plan?” Bruce asked.

Harley shook her head. “Course not; he loves him some drama.  Told him I’d dose him with truth serum if he didn’t tell me and he just said he’s immune.  Little shit.”

Bruce couldn’t help smiling slightly. “Still, it seems to have worked out as well as we could have hoped.”

In profile, Harley looked skeptical. “It ain’t over yet.”

Ra’s and Damian finished with their conversation and Damian rejoined Harley, who laid a protective hand on across his shoulders.

“I appear to be in your debt, Dr. Quinzel,” Ra’s said, looking at Harley for what seemed like the first time. “Damian informs me I have you to thank for Nyssa’s removal.  He also says you defended him valiantly.”

Harley’s grip on Damian tightened. “I didn’t do it for you, ya crazy old fucker.”

Damian looked up at Harley disapprovingly, but Ra’s was unfazed. “Nevertheless, I thank you.  Should you ever desire a change of employment, I would welcome someone of your talents.”

Harley made a face. “Thanks, but I’m good right here.”

Ra’s’ eyes flicked to her hand around Damian’s shoulders. “So I see.” Looking back at Bruce, he inclined his head. “I am thankful we were able to resolve this situation peacefully, Detective.  I shall see you again in seven years.”

Bruce struggled to keep his face impassive as he nodded back.  The four of them watched as Ra’s walked down one of the ramps out of the cave and was swallowed by the darkness.  Even still, they didn’t relax until Barbara gave them the all clear, and Tim confirmed that the whole group was heading straight for a private airfield.

“Well,” Alfred said, beginning to unload his rifle and remove his tactical gear, “I think that was certainly enough excitement for one evening.  Can I prepare anyone a nightcap before bed?”

“I would like a hot chocolate, please,” Damian requested immediately, causing Bruce to frown at him.  Of all the things he’d heard that night, this was by far the strangest.

“Since when do you drink hot chocolate?” he asked his son.

“Since you introduced me to a sugar addict,” Damian replied promptly. “I imagine my chances of developing diabetes have increased considerably in the past few months.”

“You don’t seem very concerned about that possibility?” Bruce observed.

Damian shrugged. “Should it occur I can simply make a trip to a Lazarus Pit.  Since you seem so opposed to using them yourself that leaves me several options.”

“I thought you were waiting until you were eighteen to decide if you were going to join the League?”

Damian frowned. “What does that have to do with using a Lazarus Pit?”

Bruce tried to think of some kind of response, but his ability to navigate his son’s unique brand of logic wasn’t functioning very well anymore, and he eventually gave up. “Nothing, I guess.  Go enjoy your hot chocolate then.”

“Thank you, Father, I will.” Damian looked up at Harley. “Will you be joining us?”

Harley smiled at Damian. “I’ll be up in just a sec.  I wanna talk to your dad first.” Damian nodded and followed Alfred toward the elevator.  Just before the doors closed, Harley called, “And don’t steal all the whipped cream this time!”

Damian grinned evilly as the elevator closed shut.  Harley sighed and turned back to Bruce.

“Quite the night,” he remarked.

She rubbed her eyes and finally set down the shotgun. “I’ll say.  So that was Ra’s then?  Even worse than I expected.  I don’t got a clue how Damian turned out so good bein’ raised by that psycho.”

“I’m not sure how _good_ Damian actually is,” Bruce remarked.  It felt strange to say something like that about his own son, but it was the truth.

“You kiddin?” Harley scoffed. “Kid’s practically a saint compared to grandpa.  You saw how he defused that whole thing.  You an’ Ra’s were all ready to kill each other to prove whose dick was bigger ‘til he stepped in.”

Bruce looked at her reproachfully. “I don’t think that’s exactly what we were doing.”

“That’s cuz you’re male,” Harley retorted. “Trust me, I was havin’ a hard time breathin’ with all the testosterone fumes down here.”

“What would you have done differently?”

“Blown him away the second you saw him,” Harley said bluntly. “Then incinerated the body and scattered the bits all over kingdom come.  I’d like to see a puddle of green goo bring him back from that.”

“That probably would have been effective,” Bruce admitted. “I think it turned out better this way though.”

“That’s what I’m sayin,” Harley replied. “Damian was the only one thinkin’ about how we could all come outta this alive.  He acts all murderous, but he’s actually a really good kid.”

Bruce looked absently over at the elevator, a sense of mild amazement washing over him. “You’re right.  He really is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so I know some of you were very excited about Dick's first appearance in this fic, and this might have felt a little anticlimactic. Rest assured, I'm working on another side story about the first time Harley properly meets Dick, but it's not quite ready yet. I'm actually collaborating with another writer, and I'm super excited for you all to see what we came up with!


	35. This is Harley's Town

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this in a burst of energy tonight, so please excuse any errors.

Harley whistled to herself as she rode the elevator up to her office, doing her best to pretend at nonchalance.  Ever since Nyssa’s attack on the Manor, she’d been on edge, jumping at shadows.  She knew it was irrational, that the incident had been one in a million, but she couldn’t help but wonder if every random person she saw was preparing to run her through with a katana.

As a convicted felon, she wasn’t allowed to own or carry a firearm, which caused Bruce no end of relief.  That didn’t stop her from packing her purse with as many of his crime fighting gadgets as she could, however.  The law didn’t say anything about Batarangs, smoke pellets, or tasers after all.  Or maybe it did?  Harley didn’t really care.  She just wanted to feel the sense of safety she’d started to achieve since moving in with Bruce again.  But it proved elusive, no matter what she did.

Charlie looked up at her and whined gently, seeming to sense her mood.  She stopped whistling and bent to pet him.  They’d just completed his training as a service animal, meaning he could accompany her to work now.  Bruce had insisted she could bring him anyway, but she’d wanted to make it official.  He at least gave her something to distract herself from her worries.

The door dinged open and she made her way through the halls with her head down, hoping to avoid idle chit chat; she didn’t really have the patience to be social today.  As such, she almost completely missed the extremely conspicuous black eye her assistant, Stacy, was sporting.

“Morning, boss,” Stacy said as Harley passed hurriedly.

“Hey, Stacy,” she replied, barely glancing over, before coming to a screeching halt. “Holy shit, what happened?!”

Stacy ducked her head self-consciously.  The bruise around her eye was a nasty shade of purple she hadn’t quite managed to cover up with a heavy layer of concealer.

“It’s nothing,” she muttered. “Just an accident.”

Harley gave her an incredulous look. “Come on, girl, you remember who you’re talkin’ to?  I know a shiner when I see one.  Who did it, that asshole boyfriend of yours?  I thought you kicked his ass out.”

Stacy shook her head, still not looking up. “No, he’s long gone.  It’s stupid, you don’t wanna hear it.”

Harley had uttered those very same words enough to know when someone really needed to talk but was afraid to. “Yeah, I really do.  C’mon, you can tell me what happened.”

She pulled over one of the reception chairs to sit next to Stacy’s desk and assumed a position of rapt attention.

Stacy hesitated, then sighed. “I got jumped coming home from work last night.  Some guy hit me coming out of the convenience store and snatched my purse.  I didn’t even get a decent look at him, then suddenly I was lying on the ground.”

Harley winced sympathetically. “Shit, that sucks.  You’re still livin’ in the Narrows?”

Stacy nodded miserably. “I can’t afford a nicer place _and_ Jessica’s tuition.  Her school’s more important than the occasional black eye.”

It was a very familiar story to Harley.  Having grown up in the Narrows herself, she’d watched her mother make the very same calculus year after year.  It didn’t make it any easier to deal with though.

“Did you at least fill out a police report?” she asked.

For the first time, Stacy looked up, her expression incredulous. “Of course not, you know what they’re like with us.  I’d have had to wait half an hour for them to even get there.  Then they just would’ve told me what they always do: they’ll try to find the guy, but there’s a lot of crime and they probably won’t have any luck.  In the meantime, they’d say I should try to be safer.  Like it was my fault I carry a purse or something.”

Looking into the miserable face of her coworker, Harley felt a burst of unexpected rage.  How _dare_ some jackass fuck with a person she cared about?  There was no way she could let it stand.

“I’ll be right back,” she said abruptly, rising from her chair. “Keep an eye on Charlie for me, will you?”

Stacy was surprised, but she’d become used to Harley’s mood swings. “You don’t have any meetings yet.”

“Yeah I do,” Harley said, marching back for the elevator. “I gotta talk to someone about the state of this city.”

Once in the elevator, she punched at the button for the top floor repeatedly, glaring when that didn’t make the doors close faster.  Once it was going, she paced the tiny space, unable to contain the anger coursing through her.

“Take the next one!” she barked when the elevator stopped on a floor that wasn’t Bruce’s.  The people waiting blinked, nonplussed, but didn’t attempt to push the issue.

Finally, the doors opened into the cavernous waiting room outside Bruce’s office.  She wasted no time marching straight for the huge double doors.

“He’s in a meeting right now, Dr. Quinzel.  Dr. Quinzel?  Please, Dr. Quinzel, wait!”

She ignored Jeremy’s increasingly frantic protests and barged right into Bruce’s office with the sort of devil take all attitude she hadn’t felt in years.

“We need to talk,” she declared as soon as she was in the room.

Bruce and three men she didn’t recognize looked up from his desk in surprise at her entrance.  She stopped a few feet away and planted her hands on her hips, one eyebrow arched, as if to say, ‘Move it already.’

Jeremy followed her into the office, looking flustered for the first time since she’d met him. “I’m sorry, Mr. Wayne, I tried to tell her you were in a meeting.”

Bruce recovered first. “That’s alright, Jeremy. Um, gentlemen, this is Dr. Harleen Quinzel, she’s one of our top security consultants.  Harley, this is-”

“Yeah, yeah,” she said, waving off his attempt at introductions, “I’m sure you’re all very important and stuff, but couldja scram, I gotta talk to the big man.”

The looks on the men’s faces were askance; clearly they were unused to being addressed in such a way.  Jeremy looked like he might faint from shock.  Bruce on the other hand looked like he was struggling to keep up his vacant billionaire idiot expression.  The corner of his mouth was twitching like he wanted to burst out laughing.

“Folks, do you mind if we reschedule?” he asked politely. “I’m guessing we have an emergency I should deal with.  Jeremy, would you…?”

A stunned Jeremy led an equally nonplussed group of businessmen from the office with Bruce’s assurance that they would make up the appointment as soon as possible.  Once they were gone and the doors were closed, Bruce finally let the smirk he’d been restraining break across his face.

“That was definitely worth however much money we’re going to lose in negotiations,” he remarked. “You want to tell me what’s wrong?”

Even though it was barely ten in the morning, Harley marched over to the bar and grabbed a random bottle of something, pouring a healthy measure into a glass. “You seen my assistant this morning?”

The smile slid off Bruce’s face as he joined her. “No, but I heard what happened.  I was on patrol a couple miles away.”

“Didn’t get there fast enough?” She wasn’t trying to be accusatory, but the question was pointed.

“No,” he admitted heavily. “I’m sorry.  I can only be in so many places.”

She nodded, accepting his response, although it didn’t make her any less angry.  She took a pull from her tumbler, grimacing as the liquor burned its way down her throat. “You know she wouldn’t even call the police?  Said they wouldn’t help.  I can’t even blame her, they never gave a shit about us when I was growing up neither.”

Bruce sighed. “I know.  Gordon managed to break up the old extortion rackets, but he’s never been able to repair relations.  The cops think the Narrows is a lost cause.”

Harley snorted. “Has he ever thought about actually recruitin’ a couple officers from the place?”

“Sure but it doesn’t help,” Bruce countered. “Would _you_ trust someone from the Narrows who joined the police?”

Harley thought about it for a second. “Not a chance.  I’d think they’d sold out.”

“Exactly.  Folks in the Narrows don’t trust outsiders.  And with good reason, we’ve always exploited them.  I’ve tried over the years, but neither Bruce Wayne nor Batman can make any headway.”

Harley looked at him curiously. “What’ve you done as Bruce Wayne?”

“We tried setting up community centers,” he explained. “Places that could serve as local hubs.  No police or private companies, just citizens who could respond to incidents or provide support.  Self-defense training, even just someone to walk folks home, that sort of thing.  It was always dead on arrival.  No one trusted the billionaire trying to fix the Narrows. They just assumed it was either a scam or some PR stunt.  Not that I blame them.”

Harley swilled her drink around in her glass, thinking hard.  What Bruce said made a lot of sense, both what he had attempted, and why it didn’t work.  Trust with the police would be slow to return, if it ever did.  In the meantime, people like Stacy needed someone they actually trusted to look out for them.  And no matter how well intentioned, Bruce Wayne couldn’t be the front for those kinds of efforts.

Unbidden to her mind came the memory of conversation she and Stacy had had not long after Harley had taken the new job.  When she’d found out her assistant was from the Narrows, they’d spent a number of lunches reminiscing/commiserating about growing up and living in such a troubled part of the city.  Out of morbid curiosity, Harley had asked what people thought of folks like her, Joker, and Ivy.

“You mean, you don’t know?” Stacy had said, looking a little nonplussed.

“Know what?” Harley replied, feeling equally confused and a little self-conscious.

“You’re…popular.”

It turned out Harley, or more accurately a certain image of her, had become a bit of an icon, especially in the Narrows.  She hadn’t known this at the time, but her partnership with Ivy had spawned an unexpected following.  Part of this had to do with their tendency to race through the Narrows, flipping off cops and throwing bags of cash and jewelry out of the windows.  It hadn’t been their intention, but destitute people liked having hundred-dollar bills scattered across the streets.

More than that though, Harley Quinn had become a symbol of girl power.  As one of the only female supervillains, she was something of a hero to many women in the Narrows, particularly those who’d been in abusive relationships.

“Why me?” Harley had asked. “Why not Catwoman or somethin?”

Stacy scoffed. “Have you seen that hooker outfit she runs around in?  Not a chance.  Harley Quinn all the way.”

At the time she hadn’t been certain what to think about this unexpected revelation.  The idea that people thought of her in anything other than purely negative terms was difficult to wrap her mind around and more than a little disconcerting.  _She_ certainly had trouble making any positive associations with her time as a criminal.  Now though, it occurred to her that maybe there was a way to marshal her reputation for something meaningful.

“It sounds to me,” she said slowly. “Like you need someone who’s actually from the neighborhood.  Someone people trust, who can be the face of the operation.  Get buy in from local folks.”

From the look of Bruce’s face, she could tell he knew exactly where she was heading with this.

“The thought had occurred to me,” he admitted, somewhat hesitantly. “It didn’t seem very fair to you though.”

A moment of incredible clarity seemed to hit Harley like a freight train.  It was like she suddenly understood her life in a way that she never had before.  Or maybe that was just the alcohol?  Whatever, she decided to go with it.

“You know what’s not fair?” she said. “That I get paid all kinds of money to help rich assholes hoard their shit. It’s not fair that I get to live in a mansion with a billionaire who fucks me like I’m the hottest thing since Jello.” Bruce blushed, looking as if he weren’t sure what kind of compliment that was. “I’ve been sittin’ here all worried about when it’s gonna come crashing down around me.  Well fuck it, most folks ain’t got it nearly as good as I do.  I shouldn’t sit here whinin,’ I should be out there doin’ something.  So fuck it, let’s do it!  Let’s give it a shot!”

Bruce got that guarded look that meant he was excited but didn’t want to get too carried away. “Are you sure?  This would be a big change.”

She rolled her eyes, even though she thought it was incredibly sweet that he cared so much about her wellbeing, and downed the rest of her drink. “You’ve made the sale, so stop sellin’ and tell Fox to get up here so we can get started!”

A couple hours later, Harley left Bruce’s office, having hatched a rough plan of action to revive the Wayne Enterprises Community Outreach program.  The abrupt nature of the decision had elicited some skepticism from Lucius, who had suggested that perhaps Harley take a day or two to think through the decision, preferably when she was a little more sober.  Harley had responded by doing a series of handsprings around the office, culminating in a backflip onto Bruce’s desk.  Lucius had pointed out that that didn’t really say anything about her decision-making abilities, while Harley argued it said everything.  Bruce gave a look that clearly said, ‘Just go with it,’ and the old Fox had finally gotten down to business.

Stacy looked up, as Harley came into view. “Everything okay?” she asked, somewhat uncertainly. “I rescheduled your meeting with Mr. Calhoun for tomorrow.”

“Great!” Harley replied brightly. “Cancel the rest of the appointments too.  I got a new position.  Oh, and so do you.”

Stacy looked at her aghast. “What?!”

Harley chuckled and resumed her seat next to Stacy’s desk. “You might wanna strap in, I got a lotta news.”

She summarized her conversation with Bruce, sans references to Batman, and explained that she would now be helping direct a myriad of community outreach programs designed to address safety issues in the Narrows.  In particular, Harley would be heading up self-defense training and coordinating security escorts for vulnerable residents, particularly women.  Even once she was done, Stacy still looked like she’d been hit by a truck.

“I don’t…I don’t understand,” she said. “Have you been planning this?”

“Nope,” Harley replied easily. “Just felt like I needed to do somethin’ after we talked.”

“You don’t do anything by half,” Stacy muttered. “You know you didn’t have to do all that just for me, right?”

“I’m not doin’ it just for you,” Harley said earnestly. “I’m doin’ it for your daughter and your friends and all the other people in the Narrows who ain’t got no one else lookin’ out for ‘em.  Besides,” she added, “like I said you’re comin’ with me.”

Stacy looked faint. “I am?”

Harley nodded happily. “Yep.  This whole thing’s gonna require a lotta organization.  I got them to let me bring you on as a project lead.”

“What does that even mean?” Stacy asked.

Harley shrugged. “Beyond a big raise, I got no idea.”

“You have no idea?!” Stacy exclaimed. “Then how do you know if I can do it?”

“Cuz you’re way smarter than most of the fuckwits I deal with each day,” Harley said dismissively. “If those guys can put together a successful business, I gotta think you and me can figure how to run a couple community centers.”

Stacy still looked skeptical, so Harley went on, “If you really don’t wanna do it, I get it, I’ll make sure you get transferred to someone nice.  But I think we can do a helluva lot more good than we’re doin’ here.  And did I mention a big raise…?”

Stacy held out a moment longer, then a big, carefree smile broke across her face. “Alright, why the hell not?  I’m on board!”

“Awesome!” Harley leapt up and gave Stacy a huge bear hug. “It’s gonna be awesome, I promise!”

Stacy chuckled as Harley let go of her. “You know, I really didn’t think this was how my day was gonna go.”

“I know.  Exciting, ain’t it?”

 

On the day that they announced the opening of the community centers, Harley thought maybe she should go for a different brand of excitement.  They were standing outside her old apartment building, which Bruce had apparently bought and begun renovating for use in just such an endeavor.  He’d chased out Pussy Pete, gotten rid of the meth dealers, and, using his own money, completely updated the apartments while keeping rent level.  The first floor was redesigned to serve as headquarters for their new organization, while residents now had the nicest affordable housing in the whole city.  She’d shook her head when he told her, thinking she should have seen it coming.

Now a huge crowd of reporters and various curious Narrows residents were gathered on the street to hear her speak.  It had been decided that if Harley was meant to be the face of the effort, then she should be the one to introduce it to the public.  She’d agreed when the idea was first proposed, but now wondered if she’d lost her mind.

She gave a quick look back at Bruce, who was lined up behind her with Lucius, Stacy, and a few other Wayne higher ups for the announcement. He gave her a quick, encouraging smile, which she did her best to return before stepping up to the podium.

 “Hey everyone,” she said tentatively into the microphone. “I’d introduce myself, but I’m pretty sure you all’ve heard of me.”

A light chuckle went up through the assembled reporters and onlookers, giving Harley a bit of a boost.  She smiled nervously.

“I know it’s gotta be a little weird seein’ me up here,” she continued. “Hell, it feels really weird _bein’_ up here.  If you’d told me five years ago this is where I’d be…well, you can probably imagine what I woulda said.”

Another chuckle, a little louder this time.

“Here’s the thing though.  When I was a kid, runnin’ through these streets, I didn’t really think I’d end up _anywhere_.  Like a lotta folks, I thought this was the best I was ever gonna get.  But I was one of the lucky ones.  I got more than my fair share of chances.  And I did pretty bad with most of ‘em.”

The reporters smirked to each other, making her blush, but she pressed forward.  She’d always known this part would be difficult, but she couldn’t let her fear control her.

Steeling herself, she kept going. “Thing is, when you spend a few years joyridin’ around with clowns, you learn a trick or two about how to take care of yourself.  And I figure what I know might help folks who grew up like me, so they don’t gotta worry about walkin’ to the grocery store.  These centers we’re startin’ up are gonna try to do some of that. 

“Now I know we’ve tried this little experiment a couple times before,” she went on, to nods from a few members of the crowd. “And I know I got no right askin’ you all to trust me, but I hope you’ll give us one more chance to make it work.  The pretty boy in the suit behind me, well he’s got a good heart.  And I’m not just sayin’ that cuz he’s real great in bed.”

This elicited a genuine peal of laughter from the crowd and she grinned, even though she could feel Bruce’s surprised look on the back of her head.  But that’s what he didn’t understand, you had to be real with these folks if you wanted to get anywhere.

“We’re tryin’ to do somethin’ constructive here, but I know it’s not gonna work without your help.  I know a bit about how things work in the Narrows, but I don’t got all the answers.  So when I say community, I mean it for real.  And if you’re still skeptical, well think of it this way, they’re throwin’ a lotta money at this whole thing.  I’m sure no one feels bad about takin’ a couple bucks from my boyfriend, do they?”

The hollers from the Narrows residents showed that they were definitely not averse to taking Bryce Wayne’s money.

“So come on by for a class.  Or give us a call you need someone to walk you home at night.  We’re here for you.”

Heart beating like she’d run a marathon, she stepped back from the podium as cameras flashed, hands went up, and voices shouted questions.

Bruce stepped up next to her and slipped a hand into hers, his eyes shining brightly.  She leaned up to kiss him on the cheek, not caring one bit about the fuss that caused among the crowd.

For the next hour, they took a variety of questions about the center, from how it was being funded, to where other locations would be opened, to what Harley’s salary would be.  When it was over, a couple select reporters were allowed over for slightly more detailed remarks.  That lasted another thirty or so minutes, by which point Harley felt like she was about to fall over if one more person spoke to her.

“Ms. Quinzel?”

She sighed, knowing she’d brought that on herself.  She turned though, aware this was what she’d signed up for. “Yeah, got a couple more questions?”

A bashful, familiar looking woman stood in front of her.  She didn’t have press ID, so Harley assumed she was a regular person, which was both more and less stressful.  While she wasn’t likely to publish ridiculous speculation about her in a newspaper, if Harley didn’t make a good impression that might do more damage in the long run.

“Just one,” the woman said, barely looking her in the eye. “When are you starting the self-defense classes?”

Thank goodness, an easy one. “First one’s next Thursday,” Harley told her. “We’ve got a sign up sheet online, but you can walk in too if we’ve got room.”

The woman nodded. “Thanks. I’ll be there.”

She turned to leave, but Harley stopped her, unable to shake the feeling that she knew this woman. “Hey, sorry, but you look familiar.  Have we met?”

The woman turned back, still looking nervous. “Actually, yeah.  My name’s Beth.  You saved me from some guys a few months back.  Not sure if you remember…”

Harley stared at the woman, Beth, in amazement. “Holy shit, that was you?!  I didn’t recognize you with all your clothes intact.” She winced the moment the words left her mouth. “Sorry, that didn’t come out right.”

Beth giggled. “No, it’s okay.  You were a bit preoccupied.  I never got to thank you properly.”

“Hey, happy to help,” Harley smiled. “We girls gotta stick together, right?”

Beth returned the smile. “Course.  Well, see you next Thursday?”

Harley watched the woman walk away, feeling an unfamiliar warmth spreading through her.

Yeah, this was gonna work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're wrapping up now. I'd estimate I've got about three, maybe four more chapters left in the story. I'll try to get them all out in the next week. I'm so excited for everyone to see how it'll wrap up!


	36. Will you...?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter today, but hopefully you'll see why :)

The day Bruce asked her to marry him came as a complete surprise.

After all the fuss with the League of Shadows, and yet another career change, things had settled down considerably.  Like Bruce, she now spent most of her time on the streets of Gotham, working to protect others from danger.  Unlike Bruce though, her job was not only legal, but openly supported by the city and the community.  And despite the nature of the work, she hardly ever got into any real trouble; just enough to keep her from getting bored.

All told, her life felt shockingly normal.  Admittedly she was grading on the curve with her assessment, but when your comparison was the Joker, living with Batman seemed like the height of sanity.  She had people in her life who she loved and who loved her back.  Their lives were comfortable; they had a good routine, and good jobs.  They’d never talked about marriage, or really anything to do with the future.  She was happy with how things were, and she figured Bruce was as well.  Harley assumed that things wouldn’t change until they had to.

She therefore didn’t think anything of it when Bruce suggested they have a special celebration for their first-year anniversary.  Of course, they’d had to establish _when_ their anniversary even was.  She’d assumed Bruce would’ve gone with their first real outing together to the charity ball, but he insisted that it was the first time they’d slept together.  That made her giggle slightly; of course he was counting from when they’d started fucking.  Not that she minded.

Given that they were counting from their first time; Harley figured they’d be getting up to something fairly kinky or exciting.  To prepare for all eventualities, she packed a couple small vibrators and different lubes in her purse.  She chose a dress that was loose enough to allow easy access, while still being appropriate for company.

She also neglected to wear any underwear.

All these choices seemed justified when they arrived at the restaurant and were escorted to a private booth.  A genuine private booth too, not one of those paper-thin ones you saw on TV.  The sliding door was sturdy, with a bolt lock, and thick walls.  There was a button to summon the waiter, so no one would walk in on them.  It was the kind of Gotham restaurant designed for discreet business deals, crime meetings, or both.  Harley was positive they wouldn’t be the first people to fuck in one of these rooms, but she was determined to make them the filthiest.

Since Bruce had planned the whole excursion, she let him take the lead, waiting in anticipation for him to make his move.  Maybe he’d duck under the table and slide his mouth between her legs.  Or would he make _her_ get on her knees?  Perhaps he’d bend her over the table between courses.  Her mind kept running wild with ideas, making it hard to focus on their conversation.

But as they moved from one incredible plate of food to another, he refused to make a move.  Even as she let her dress ride up her legs or bent over to show as much cleavage as possible, he continued to be a perfect gentleman. 

He was teasing her, that had to be it.  Winding her up, driving her crazy so that she’d be ready for anything.  It was working too.  She couldn’t keep her eyes off of him, watching every movement of his hands and twitch of his lips as if she’d go blind if she looked away.  She kept grinding her thighs together in an attempt to get _some_ relief.

Finally, after a lavish set of sweets, a couple of which he even tried, he leaned across the table to look at her seriously.

“There’s something I wanted to ask you,” he said, staring into her eyes. “A proposition, I guess you’d call it.” A nostalgic smiled flicked across his lips.

Here it came.  A proposition to match the one she’d made to him a year prior.  The difference being that Bruce had shown himself even more creative than her when he had time to plan.  She leaned forward eagerly and grinned. “I’m all ears.”

He left his seat and moved around the table.  Harley’s heartbeat quickened as he approached her chair.  He knelt beside her, and she squirmed in excitement, wondering what he had in store for them.  Her breathing quickened when he reached in his pocket for something; she was usually the one who supplied the toys.  What had he brought?  Maybe vibrating panties to tease her with?  Dirty playing cards, that could be fun.  Something like a blindfold or gag would be appropriate, very in keeping with their first time.

She wasn’t expecting the small velvet case cradled in his palm.  It looked like the kind of case that held engagement rings, and her first irrational thought was that he’d gotten a cock ring.  But the case was _way_ too small to hold one that’d fit him.  She was so confused, it took her a moment to process the bright gold ring, set with a brilliant ruby nestled in the silk interior of the case.

Harley looked at Bruce in shock.  The look on his face was tender, loving, the kind of expression he only got when looking at her.

“Harley,” he said softly. “I love you more than anything.  Will you marry me?”

She should have blushed like a delicate princess, smiled shyly, and said yes.  They’d have held hands, drank champagne, and run home to tell Alfred.

That wasn’t what she did though.  Instead she stared at him dumbly and said, “Wait, you weren’t gonna fuck me?”

Bruce’s expression turned confused. “Fuck y – what do you mean?”

“I thought you were gonna do somethin’ real crazy and kinky tonight,” Harley explained. “Like how our first night was, you know?”

“Oh, um…” Bruce looked surprised. “Sorry to disappoint?”

Harley laughed. “It ain’t disappointing.  Just real surprising.  I didn’t know if you were the marryin’ type.”

“I suppose I wasn’t sure either,” Bruce said. “I never thought I’d get the chance to find out until I met you.”

She blushed. “Flatterer.”

“Is that a yes then?” He sounded more hopeful and uncertain than she’d ever seen him.

She rolled her eyes. “No, I don’t wanna marry the billionaire love of my life.  Of course it’s a yes, you big Bat looking dumbass!”

Bruce broke into a wide grin and slipped the ring onto her finger.  Of course it fit perfectly.  Harley held it up to look closer, trying to hold back tears that made the gem glisten even more.

“How come a ruby?” she asked Bruce curiously.

“It’s hard to get an ethical diamond,” he said. “And besides, it seemed too generic.  I wanted to get you something more unique.”

“I always had a thing for rubies,” she said fondly.

“I know.” His voice turned wry. “I remember that jewel heist you and Ivy pulled.”

Harley smiled bashfully. “Hey, we gave ‘em all back!”

“ _After_ I cornered you in the museum,” he observed.

“Well you better not expect me to give this one back.” She slid down to face him and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Cuz it ain’t happening.”

***

They were married in April, under the cherry blossoms in Osaka.

The ceremony was small and simple; the polar opposite of the enormous spectacle the tabloids started predicting the moment Harley was spotted wearing an engagement ring.  Fewer than ten people were in attendance.  The only guests they’d wanted were Alfred, Lucius, Damian, Dick, Tim, Barbara, Veronica, and Stacy.  The latter two were somewhat confused to see the daughter of the police commissioner and her boyfriend, but Bruce’s story for how they’d met was plausible enough to prevent suspicion.

Harley wore red.  Veronica, as the unofficial maid of honor, pointed out that white was more traditional, but Harley reminded her that she was neither traditional, nor particularly pure.  Bruce, of course, wore black, but with red accents.  Everyone else, Harley was insistent, could wear whatever the hell they wanted.

Alfred officiated, and did a fairly good job of pretending he wasn’t about to cry the whole way through.  Bruce’s vows were simple, but all the more heartfelt for it.  Harley’s were as weird as she could possibly make them while still doing her best to convey the depth of her love and appreciation.

They kissed under a canopy of pink as Alfred pronounced them husband and wife.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're not done quite yet. A few twists and turns to come...


	37. Random Smut Chapter (NSFW, obviously)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realized it had been a while since I wrote some smut into this story. So here's a random little bit of fun. Takes place pretty much whenever makes sense to you, I didn't have a specific timeline in mind. We'll be back to your regularly scheduled plot tomorrow.

Harley loved riling Bruce up. He held himself with such confidence and control that she couldn’t help wanting to ruffle his feathers a bit whenever possible. In public, this usually meant trying to get him to break his Bruce Wayne character with some absurd comment or antic. As Batman, she liked trying to make him smile.

In private, it meant trying to get him to fuck her as hard as he could.

Bruce was an incredibly sweet, gentle lover. Harley absolutely loved how much he made her feel like a queen, like he was worshiping her body. Their first time in particular was one of the most intense sexual experiences of Harley’s life. But as good as Bruce was at being loving and gentle, sometimes she just wanted to get fucked like a cheap back alley whore.

Trouble was getting him to do it.

It took her a while to figure it out. She had to push his buttons, really get him going. As it turned out, Bruce didn’t have a whole lot of patience with being teased. The way she was doing currently.

“I love how your big, hard cock feels slidin’ between my tits,” she moaned, looking up at him from her position draped across his lap. She wasn’t lying to him either, there was something uniquely erotic about the sensation, even though it brought her no direct stimulation.

Bruce’s face on the other hand, was contorted with very real pleasure. She knew this was new to him, none of his previous partners would have considered doing something quite so dirty. However, she knew he was also increasingly frustrated at her pace. She was moving agonizingly slowly, and his hands were flexing like he wanted to grab her tits and take over from her.

Which would have been fine with her. That was the whole point, getting him to cut loose for once. But he still held back, restraining himself like the perfect gentleman she _didn’t_ want him to be at the moment.

“I could just make you come like this,” she mused, her voice as seductive as she could make it. “Paint my tits white.”

He groaned audibly, his cock practically twitching against her chest. She paused for a moment, making sure he didn’t get too excited.

“Not just yet. In fact, I think I might just keep doin’ this the rest of the night,” she said, continuing the maddeningly deliberate motion of her breasts along his shaft. She meant it too, she’d stay here on her knees, keeping him on the edge of orgasm all damn night if he didn’t do anything to stop her. She didn’t care that she was already practically dripping down her thigh from arousal, or that her legs were getting stiff.

That was the trick. She had to be honest with him.  He had to believe that she was happy torturing him as long as he left things up to her. Even someone of Bruce’s considerable will couldn’t hold out forever against that kind of treatment. It was just a matter of when…

The when came quite suddenly, as it always did. Sometimes Bruce held out a little longer, sometimes he gave in rather quickly. Regardless though, it almost always involved Harley suddenly whirling through the air like she was a ragdoll, and not a full grown, fairly muscular woman. She never saw it coming, Bruce always moved too fast for her to process, and by the time she got her bearings back, he was buried to the hilt in her waiting pussy.

That moment while she was in movement was always incredibly thrilling, because she never knew where she’d land. Would she be on her back with her legs pushed up to the limits of her considerable flexibility? Would she find herself seated on Bruce, still totally at his mercy while he bounced her on his cock like a human sex toy?

Tonight, she ended up face down on the bed, the magnificent weight of Bruce’s body pressing her into the mattress. She spread her legs eagerly and didn’t have to wait long for the delicious feeling of his cock filling her. Just as she’d hoped, once he got started he didn’t hold back, pounding away at her without rhythm or subtlety. She’d worked him up so thoroughly, teased him so much, that his incredibly focused brain would be fixated on only one thing: getting himself off.

In a perverse way, that’s what she liked so much about getting him to cut loose. Most of the time he was so concerned about making sure she was enjoying herself, which usually meant going down on her or fingering her until she had an orgasm or two. But there was something insanely exciting about getting him to the point where he just took his own pleasure from her. She probably wouldn’t come; she’d spent too long driving him to the edge for him to last long enough, but that wasn’t the point. It was about making him lose control, bringing out the rough, unhinged side of Bruce that he tried so hard to keep hidden. After all, if she wanted an orgasm she had plenty of toys that got the job done just fine. There was no way to mimic the feeling of getting fucked for all she was worth.

Not that she wasn’t still enjoying it, because she was. Quite vocally in fact. Any semblance of coherence was long since gone, and all she could manage were vague, half formed cries of approval and excitement. Because she wasn’t some delicate little flower. She was Harley Quinn, goddamit, and if she wanted to be fucked hard, then she was going to get fucked hard!

Along with her own, intense pleasure, she could feel Bruce’s in the ragged sound of his breathing in her ear, the tremble of his arms braced on either side of her body, and most of all in the desperate, almost frantic way he was going at her.

“Oh God, just come! I want you to come!” she babbled.

She got her wish. After a particularly violent series of thrusts, he pulled out of her completely. Barely a second later she felt the warm splash of his cum hitting her ass and lower back. She lay there, panting while he finished painting her with his seed before collapsing on the bed next to her. For a number of long moments she couldn’t do anything but quiver, hands spasmodically grasping the sheets as she tried to recover.

This was what she loved about the times Bruce really let go. No matter how many times she came, there was nothing quite like the feeling of having been fucked so hard she could barely move. She reveled in the way her muscles had just gone totally, wonderful limp and relaxed, the feeling of Bruce’s cum coating her skin, and the beginning of a delightful tinge of soreness in her pussy that could only be associated with sex. Tomorrow she might shift in a way that would cause a bit of a twinge between her legs, and she’d remember getting fucked so hard it made her mind melt. The memory would bring a smile to her face, and a sense of anticipation for the next time she could get Bruce going…


	38. Where do we go from here?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to throw in a mild CW on this chapter for a fairly detailed description of a panic attack, as well as implied past emotional abuse. I tried to tread lightly and not get too intense with my language, but I don't want anyone going in unawares.

Harley paced the bedroom, unable to sit down for even a moment.  Every few seconds she glanced at the door, only to gnash her teeth impatiently when no one came bursting through it.  Charlie watched her progress with concerned eyes and the occasional low wine.  Whenever he made these noises she’d go over and scratch his ears for a moment, but she couldn’t stand to be still for long and quickly resumed pacing.

She’d been doing this for hours now, since almost the moment Bruce had left on patrol.  Her only breaks had been to retrieve bottles of water from the kitchen, doing her best to evade a solicitous Alfred.  Meanwhile the seconds ticked by, each minute feeling like an eternity to her increasingly frazzled brain.  It felt like the clock was mocking her, taunting her for not saying something before Bruce left.

For the first time in months, she started to feel panic rising in her chest.  Everything had been going so well for so long, she should have known it wouldn’t last.  Nothing good ever did.  She didn’t deserve this wonderful life she’d stumbled into, and now the universe had finally realized it and was balancing the scales.

She was worthless.

Worthless

Worthless

She felt faint; she hadn’t been able to eat anything all day, even once she’d stopped throwing up.  The world seemed to spiral around her, threatening to suck her down into a bottomless void of her own inadequacy.  She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t, couldn’t, couldn’t…

“You never could.”

The sneering voice appeared like it had never left.  She could hear it more clearly than her own thoughts.  Not that there was much difference…

“You were always a failure!  A useless fuck up!  A waste of space! _I_ was the only one who could _ever_ put up with you!  And look what you did to me!  What made you think you’d be worth anything else!”

She covered her ears, trying to shut out the voice, but it was no use.  She could almost see his wide, sneering smile, leering down at her.

“He’s not going to want anything to do with you now,” the voice taunted her. “You were always just a distraction, something for him to play with when he gets bored.  He’ll throw you right back into that pit where he found you!  You’ll have nothing.  Nothing!”

She sank to her knees, teeth gritted in pain. “Shut up, shut up, shut up!”

That awful, taunting laugh echoed in her mind, threatening to overwhelm her…

The door creaked open, and before Harley was even aware of it, she was flying across the room.  It didn’t even occur to her that it might be Alfred coming to check up on her, or Damian wanting to play games.  Luckily it was Bruce, finally returned from patrol, looking tired.  His eyes widened in surprise as Harley latched onto him, tears of mixed relief and fear spilling from her eyes.

“Whoa there!” His arms came up automatically to steady her. “What’s going on?  What’s wrong?”

She sobbed into his shoulder, unable to respond, all semblance of control gone.  Bruce, being the perfect partner he was, didn’t press her.  Eventually, he picked her up like she weighed nothing and carried her to the bed, where he held her gently against him while she clung to him as if terrified he’d vanish.

She didn’t know how long they stayed that way, but after a while she was able to summon up the courage to lean back enough to look up at him.  His eyes were wide and full of concern, and she immediately felt bad about worrying him.  She tried her best to find some strength.  For him.

It was literally the hardest thing she’d ever done.

“I got some news.”

Bruce’s expression tightened. “Bad news, I take it?” She could tell his absurdly fast brain was immediately working to identify and prepare for different scenarios.

“I’m not sure,” she told him honestly, sniffing. “Might be, might not be.  But it’s big.”

She watched Bruce steel himself, and his arms tightened around her. “Whatever it is, we’ll get through it together.”

The love and care in his voice threatened to overwhelm her again, and she had to take a deep breath and squeeze her eyes against a fresh flood of tears.  She couldn’t dissolve though.  Not yet.  She had to tell Bruce this piece of news that might change the course of their entire lives.  She’d been trying to come up with a way to say it for hours, but there was no other way than just spitting it out.  Although it took every ounce of her willpower, she looked him straight in the eye and forced out the words.

“I’m pregnant.”

Two little words, that was all.  Two little words that might as well have been a bomb she’d set off in the middle of the bedroom.  Their enormity felt like a shift in gravity, threatening to suck them all into some kind of abyss.  Even now, despite how much time she’d had to process it, Harley still couldn’t believe it was true.

She was pregnant.  _Pregnant!_  There was a life growing inside her, like some kind of little alien.  All day she’d been asking herself how this could have happened, what kind of cruel god would throw _this_ of all curveballs at her?  And more than anything, now that it had happened, what the hell was she going to do about it?

Now these same questions were beginning to run through Bruce’s head.

She’d never felt more in tune with him than in that moment.  It was as if a window into his mind had opened up to her, and she saw more clearly than ever what he was thinking.

First there was shock.  His eyes widened, and his lips parted in an expression she had hardly ever seen on his face.  For a moment, his brain was completely frozen in the attempt to process the most monumental thing he’d probably ever hear.

When his eyes narrowed again, she knew he was wondering if she really was pregnant.  That thought was banished in an instant when he remembered that she was a highly trained doctor, and there was an extraordinary array of diagnostic equipment in the basement.

Inevitable as it was, she still arched a reproachful eyebrow when she saw him fleetingly wonder if it was his.  A touch of embarrassed color came to his cheeks as he realized she was tracking his thought process, and he smiled apologetically.  Not that she entirely blamed him.  She was in her late thirties and on the best birth control money could buy.  Short of getting her tubes tied, there really shouldn’t have been any way for her to have gotten pregnant.  Apparently, Bruce’s little swimmers were ridiculous overachievers just like him.

As Bruce fully processed that Harley really _was_ pregnant and it was definitely _his_ baby, Harley waited with bated breath for his reaction.  They had never talked about having children, both of them perhaps assuming that the other didn’t want them.  A foolish oversight, in retrospect.  Now Harley was left without a clue what Bruce would think about the idea of having another kid.  For all she knew, he’d never wanted the bevy of them he’d gotten over the years.  Perhaps two adopted and one accidental was enough for him.  Hell, Damian by himself would be enough for _any_ parent, even if he weren’t some kind of high functioning sociopath.  Surely, he wouldn’t want to deal with the inevitable insanity of raising Harley Quinn’s child as well.  She barely understood why he was willing to put up with _her_ ; a child would definitely be too much.

These were the thoughts that had threatened to overwhelm her all night.  There was no way he’d want another kid, especially not _her_ kid.  She was damaged goods, any child of hers would inevitably be messed up too. Consumed with these feelings, she braced herself for the inevitable rejection, the moment where he finally realized she was too much for him.

She was entirely unprepared for the sudden look of unfiltered joy that broke across Bruce’s face.  In all the time they’d been together, she’d never seen him look so entirely, ecstatically, genuinely happy.  It seemed to transport him, strip away years of toil and struggle.  The lines on his face, the constant furrows of worry and concentration smoothed over, and his eyes lit up as if the sun itself were shining through them.  For the briefest moment, she glimpsed the man Bruce should have been, if cruel fate hadn’t stolen his future from him and set him on the path of the Batman.

It was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen.

Then, as if a door had slammed shut, it was gone, replaced by a look of careful, guarded concern.  Cautiously it seemed, Bruce gazed at her.

“Do you want to keep it?”

That wasn’t a question she’d anticipated.  Truthfully, Harley had never expected to have children, even when she was younger, and certainly not in the years since joining the Joker.  She felt barely equipped to take care of herself these days, let alone a child.  Convinced as she’d been that Bruce would be repulsed at the idea of having another child, she’d assumed he’d want to get rid of it.  Hell, she’d been prepared to beg him to take her to a clinic and just let things go back to normal.  She’d have proposed getting her tubes tied, or even a full on hysterectomy, anything to make sure he’d stay with her.

But he’d asked her what she wanted.  _He’d_ asked _her_.  As if it mattered what _she_ wanted.

She didn’t know how to process it and fresh tears poured from her eyes.  She could tell Bruce took this the wrong way, and she watched him steel himself for her answer.

“Yeah.  Yeah, I do.”

Bruce’s expression cracked just a bit, but he still didn’t let his control slip completely. “Are you sure?  It’s okay if you don’t.”

Remarkably, she knew he meant it.  If she truly didn’t want a child, she could tell he would support her.  But he didn’t have to worry.  The moment she’d seen his pure joy at finding out he would be a father again, she knew there was no way in hell she was getting rid of the kid.  The idea of being a mother was terrifying beyond all belief, and she certainly didn’t relish the prospect of pushing Bruce’s inevitably monster headed spawn out of her vagina.  None of that mattered though.  She’d go through far more to see that look of transcendent happiness on Bruce’s face again for even the barest hint of a second.

But more than that she knew she wanted to have _his_ kid.  Because nothing in her life had ever made her as happy as he did.  And sitting here, now, with him, she no longer felt like she was adrift in a vacuum without anything to hold her steady.  Bruce was an anchor, her safe port in the middle of a universe of chaos and insanity.  She could face anything, if he was next to her.

“Yes, I’m sure.  More sure than I’ve been of anything in my whole life.  Long as you’re here with me.”

He held out a moment longed, then the mask cracked, and tears welled up in his eyes, spilling over onto his cheeks.  He leaned his forehead gently against hers, everything about him transformed by this sudden, unbelievable, incredible, joyous change.

“Always.”


	39. Changes

Bruce stood on the narrow, unguarded ledge that protruded from his office at Wayne Tower, gazing out across Gotham.  It was a perfectly clear, cloudless night, and the light of the full moon reflected off the nearby bay.  Gotham always looked so peaceful from up here, belying the ever-swirling vortex of chaos that ran through its streets.  For a moment, he could pretend that all was well.

Unlike most nights, however, he didn’t dive into that vortex, chasing the predators, murderers, and psychopaths that called Gotham home.  He simply waited, patiently, staring out at the city, a most unusual sense of peace filling him.

“I certainly can’t argue with the view up here, but you didn’t feel like meeting up somewhere a little lower?  Takes forever to get up here.  I don’t even have a clue how I’m getting _down_.”

Bruce smile slightly, not looking away from the city. “You should get a cape.”

Nightwing moved to stand next to Bruce. “No thanks, been there done that, tired of looking like a cheap magician.  Besides, Bludhaven doesn’t have quite as many tall buildings as Gotham.  No reason to swoop around like some kind of demon.” He grinned teasingly at Bruce.

“You might have one soon,” Bruce remarked.  Dick looked at him, frowning. “I’m retiring, Dick.  In a few months, I won’t be Batman anymore.”

Dick looked as shocked as if Bruce had shot him.  For a moment he struggled to form a response. “What, why, Bruce?  Is it your injuries?  I thought the exoskeleton was working well.”

“It is,” Bruce replied calmly. “It’s been amazing, as a matter of fact.  I imagine I’d do well against Bane, if it ever came to that again.”

“What’s wrong then?  I figured you’d do this forever.”

“So did I,” Bruce admitted. “But things change.  Harley’s pregnant.”

Dick’s expression transformed to a different sort of shock.

The moment Harley had told him, Bruce knew that he couldn’t keep doing this.  It was already unfair to Harley and Damian that he went out every night, chasing criminals through the streets.  He’d justified it to himself based on the fact that they were both capable of dealing with a weird father and husband.  Harley was used to far stranger, and Damian seemed to like having Batman as his father.  That justification crumbled into nothing at the prospect of having a baby, one who had the opportunity to be born into a normal life.  He couldn’t keep jumping off rooftops and dodging gunfire.  He couldn’t risk inflicting the same fate on his child that he’d suffered through.  He had to recognize the fact that his time as Batman had run its course.

He saw Dick come to this same realization.  As he recovered from the surprise, a broad grin spread across the young crimefighter’s face. “Wow, congratulations, Bruce!  I’m really happy for you both!”

Bruce smiled back, such expressions coming easier to him now than ever before. “Thank you, Dick.” He knew that his former partner in crime fighting understood his reasoning, but he felt the need to say the words out loud. “I should have hung up the cowl the moment I took you in.  I’m sorry I didn’t.  I won’t make that mistake again.”

Dick shrugged easily. “Hey, you don’t have to explain anything to me, Bruce.  Honestly, I’m glad you didn’t.  I’m not sure what I would’ve done if I hadn’t spent those years as Robin.”

Dick’s tone was sincere, but Bruce still felt a twinge of the old guilt.  He questioned again whether he was making the right decision…

“It’s hard to imagine this city without Batman though,” Dick continued, looking out over Gotham, not noticing Bruce’s sudden discomfort. “I know things are better, but it’s hard not to worry a bit.”

Knowing he was never going to get a better opening, Bruce forced himself to speak. “Actually, that’s part of why I asked you to meet me tonight.  I was hoping you’d be willing to take over the mantle.”

Once again, Dick looked as though he’d been punched in the gut. “Christ, I need to sit down.” He lowered himself so that his legs were dangling over the edge of the skyscraper and massaged the sides of his head. “You wanna walk me through your logic there, Bruce, cuz I’m not following.”

“Gotham is a much safer place than when either of us were children,” Bruce explained, crouching down next to his former sidekick. “But the work is far from over.  Crime is still high, even if it isn’t organized.  We also can’t ignore the possibility that one of the old supervillains could escape Akrham.  Or that a new one might appear.  The police will never be fully equipped to deal with threats like that.  They need Batman.

“More than that though, Batman has become a symbol in Gotham.  Tim was right when he told us that Gotham needed Robin.  But we also need Batman.  Someone who makes innocent people feel safer.  And I think it should be you.”

Dick was silent for a few moments as he processed Bruce’s words. “Okay, I get all that, but why not Tim?  He’s already here and everything, why me?”

“Tim’s not ready,” Bruce said firmly. “One day, probably, but not now.  There’s too much he still needs to learn.  Things he’d be better served learning from you than me.”

Dick gave an incredulous smile. “Are you kidding? What happened to Mr. Bruce ‘My-way-or-the-high-way’ Wayne? I don’t remember him being that thrilled with my approach to crime fighting.”

Bruce frowned. “Our approaches are different, but I remember us working well together.”

“So did I.  Until you forced me out,” Dick replied bluntly.

Bruce sighed. It had been some time since they’d rehashed this argument; before Jason’s death in fact.  He’d hoped that they’d put it behind them, but it seemed destined to hang over their relationship.

“I was only trying to do what was best for you,” he said, lowering himself heavily to sit next to Dick. “I didn’t want you wasting your life the way I had.”

Dick shot him a sharp glance. “It hardly seems like a waste.”

Bruce looked out over the cloudy Gotham skyline. “It did from my perspective.” The admission was difficult.  He’d never let himself really acknowledge his true feelings about being Batman.  Not until Harley.

“Back then, I was too angry to see it,” he tried to explain. “I couldn’t imagine any other future for myself.  The relationships, the friendships, being Batman consumed them all.  I either drove people away, or I sucked them into my world.  I worried you would never escape, and it looked like Jason was right on your heels.  I thought maybe I could do something for you at least before it was too late.  For a minute I thought it had worked.”

He gave a reluctant chuckle. “Of course, then you went and became Nightwing and I was forced to let Jason take up the Robin mantle to help me fight Bane.  I failed you both completely.”

Dick shook his head firmly. “I can’t speak for Jason, but I never felt like you failed me, Bruce.  I’m not kidding, I don’t have a clue where I’d be if you hadn’t given me the chance to be Robin.  I was so angry, I needed something to focus on.  You gave me that and I wouldn’t trade it for the world.  I _like_ doing this.  I thought you understood that.”

“I did eventually,” Bruce admitted. “After I saw you in Bludhaven that first time, not long after Jason died.  I realized you were better at this than I ever was.  You did it for the right reasons, not just because you couldn’t imagine your life any other way.  I was happy for you, but I didn’t know how to say it.”

“What changed?”

“Harley,” Bruce replied simply. “She says it’s important I learn how to express my feelings.”

Dick smiled incredulously. “Remind me to thank her sometime.”

“I do every day.” Bruce looked Dick straight in the eyes. “I’m incredibly proud of you, Dick.  I’m sorry I let my own fears come between us, but for what it’s worth, I never wanted to hurt you.  You were the first person besides Alfred to make me think my life could be less miserable.”

Now it was Dick’s turn to look away, his eyes shimmering in the light of Gotham’s glow. “Damn, Bruce,” he muttered. “If I’d’ve known dating reformed convicts would be so good for you I’d have set you up with one way sooner.”

Bruce smiled and clasped his former ward on the shoulder. “So what do you think?  Are you ready to come home?”

Dick took a deep breath. “I guess I _have_ missed Gotham these past few years.  Why the hell not?  Sure, I’ll do it.”

“Thank you.  I’ll feel a lot better knowing you’re watching over the city.”

Dick nodded. “I’m still not wearing a cape.”

Bruce laughed. “We’ll talk about it.”

***

A familiar, lone figure stood waiting next to the Bat-Signal on top of the GCPD.  A lot had changed in Gotham over the years, but Jim Gordon had been a constant, weathering all the trials the city could throw at them.  Even now, as he approached sixty, he remained just as committed to the fight as ever.  Every few years, whoever was mayor floated the idea of Gordon retiring, but the commissioner steadfastly refused.  It helped allay Bruce’s guilt, knowing Gordon would still be there to watch over Gotham.

He landed silently on the rooftop next to the signal. “Evening, Jim.”

Gordon didn’t jump, but he sighed and shook his head. “You know someday you’re gonna give me a heart attack doing that.”

Bruce allowed a tight smile. “It’ll be over soon, I promise.”

Gordon gave him a look that was borderline alarmed. “That sounds ominous.  Something I need to know?”

“I’m leaving, Jim.  The time’s come.” The words were just as hard to force out as they’d been with Dick.  Maybe more so; after all, Jim had been in this fight with him almost since the beginning. “There are reasons I can’t explain, but I can’t do this much longer.”

Gordon sighed and dug out his pipe. “Yeah, I figured this was coming.  Kinda surprised it didn’t happen sooner.” He tamped down some tobacco and lit the pipe with a match.

Bruce frowned. “Why is that?”

Gordon gave him an admonishing look over the rim of his pipe. “Come on, you think I don’t know?  You didn’t have to be wearing a cowl for me to know you were wearing a mask.  That look in your eyes when I first saw you at the police station?  It never went away.”

Bruce was unused to being the one wrongfooted when talking to Gordon.  It was more than disconcerting. “You knew?  All this time?”

Gordon nodded, looking more than a little smug. “Hey, I’m a detective too, you know.  Damn good one.  Just because I never put on a cape doesn’t mean I can’t figure some things out.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

The commissioner shrugged. “You seemed to prefer your privacy.  I figured it wasn’t any skin off my back to play along. Not after everything you did for us.”

“Then why say anything now?”

“Cuz I want you to know that when I say I’m happy for you, I mean it,” Gordon replied seriously. “I know where you’ve come from and what you’ve been through.  And I’m glad you found some peace after so long.  Congrats, by the way.”

Bruce was at a loss for words, a deeply unusual feeling for him.  At last, he just held out a hand. “Thank you, Jim.  For everything.”

Gordon shook his hand gravely. “Thank _you_ , son.  For what you did for this city.  And for looking after my daughter.  I know you blamed yourself, but I want you to know I never did.  She was happy working with you.  Still is.  That’s all any parent can hope for, you know.”

Bruce looked away. “I always wondered if you knew about her.”

Gordon nodded. “It’s not what any parent’d want for their kid, but I’d be a hell of a hypocrite if I’d tried to stop her.  Not like I could have.  She was always stubborn.  Kinda like someone else I know.” He gave Bruce a pointed look.

“Do you need me to get you a mirror?” Bruce shot back, causing Gordon to laugh.

“I’m assuming her boyfriend’ll keep up with the Robin shtick?” Gordon asked.  Bruce nodded. “Good,” he said, turning to look out at the city. “That makes me feel a little better.  Still, gonna be an adjustment without Batman.”

“About that,” Bruce said, coming up to stand next to him. “An old friend should be joining us any minute.”

Gordon frowned at him. “Old friend, huh?  Just couldn’t resist going out without a surprise, could you?”

“This will be a welcome one, hopefully,” Bruce replied, scanning the skies.  Once he’d located Dick’s trajectory, he stretched out a hand. “Look there.”

Gordon squinted in the direction Bruce indicated.  Bruce could tell when he caught sight of Dick by the way his eyes widened. “What the hell…?”

Bruce didn’t blame him; he’d had a similar reaction upon first seeing the suit Lucius had designed for Dick.  It was modeled after the Nightwing outfit, less heavily armored than the Batsuit.  The Bat symbol stretched in red across the front, while the rest of the suit was pure black.  He wore a slightly modified version of the cowl, crammed with the latest tech.

The real change, though, was the wings that spread between Dick’s outstretched arms.  He’d been insistent that he didn’t want another cape, while Bruce had argued that he need some way to get around the city that didn’t rely on a vehicle.  This had been Lucius’s compromise; a cutting edge wingsuit of the kind used by skydivers.  It would allow Dick to navigate Gotham with similar efficiency to the cape, but without the encumbrance.  All in all, he looked even more like a Bat than Bruce ever had.

A moment later, after a few unnecessary acrobatics, Dick landed on the GCPD’s rooftop, grinning from ear to ear.

“Jim, you remember Nightwing?” Bruce said. “He’s agreed to take over as Batman.”

Dick waved. “Evening, Jim.  Long time no see.”

Gordon’s expression was astonished.  His pipe had long since gone out, but he hadn’t seemed to notice.  Bruce restrained a grin.

“You don’t have to worry, Jim.  I’m leaving you in good hands.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I first started writing this story, I didn't plan for it to involve Bruce hanging up the cowl. Quite the opposite in fact, I originally intended to showcase a version of Bruce who was far more at peace with his crimefighting lifestyle. However, as the story progressed, and I gained more clarity around the themes I was exploring, I realized that it was inevitable. This is a story about healing from trauma, and even the healthiest version of Batman is still a product of trauma. In order for him to begin to heal, like Harley, he has to learn to let go of his past. Therefore, somewhat unintentionally, we come to the end of Bruce's time as the Dark Knight. And the start of Dick's...
> 
> I have one more chapter in this story, which I'll upload tomorrow. Is everybody ready? I'm definitely not!


	40. All Good Things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We come now to the end! I hope you enjoy the finale!

Pregnancy was not treating Harley well. She’d heard women talk about how being pregnant made them feel glowy and magical. That hadn’t happened to her.  Most days she tended towards nauseated and irritable.  The hormones had thrown her medication regimen all to hell, and even after five months she and Dr. Leland still hadn’t figured out how to balance it all out.  Most days, Bruce came home from dealing with cranky criminals to dealing with a cranky wife.  Which she would have felt bad about, except the way she figured, the whole thing was his fault anyway.

She’d started working from home as often as she could get away with.  Being pregnant made it impossible for her to teach classes or patrol, so most of it was boring ass paperwork anyway.  Besides, the sound of other people’s voices drove her insane most days, and she figured it was better for everyone involved if she just kept to herself.  Except Damian, who seemed completely unfazed by her moods, despite frequently having his head bitten off after one too many questions about pregnancy. And Alfred, who was the only person she didn’t regularly want to murder.

Dr. Leland knew all of this, which made it even more surprising when she made a request one day.

“I’d like you to help us upgrade the Aslyum’s security.”

Harley, who had been lounging with her head hanging off the back of the chair, looked up abruptly. “Come again, Doc?  You want me to do what now?”

“We’d like you to help with the Asylum’s security,” Leland repeated patiently.

Harley kept her expression nonchalant. “What’s wrong?  The new guards gettin’ lazy?”

Leland smiled slightly. “No, but we’ve had one or two close calls.  Nothing like the old days, but enough to make us nervous.  The board thinks it’s time for a revamp, and given your history and current occupation, there’s no one better suited.  You still take private contracts on occasion, right?”

“Yeah, but I’m not sure you fit my normal client profile…” Harley hedged, trying to gather her thoughts.

It was true though, she mostly did jobs for local business and organizations nowadays.  Bruce had refused to sign a prenup when they got married (despite the increasingly frantic protestations of a small army of lawyers) which meant that any and all of Harley’s money issues had thoroughly evaporated.  So instead of contracting with rich, uppity assholes, Harley now lent her security services to people that would ordinarily never be able to afford them.  It was much harder, given that the local laundromat couldn’t really afford a state-of-the-art intruder detection system, but all the more rewarding for it.

“I know,” Dr. Leland said gently. “I also know exactly what I’m asking you to do.  But I wouldn’t even suggest it if I didn’t think you could handle it.  And you could cement the work you’ve already done.”

Dr. Leland’s plea was moving, but Harley still hesitated.  She really, _really_ didn’t feel like going back to the Asylum, which she knew she’d need to if she agreed to help.  The time spent there had been some of the most unpleasant of her life, and she’d very much rather pretend it had never happened.

More than that, though, it was the people inside Arkham she’d hoped never to see again.  One in particular, whose voice still haunted her thoughts…

Dr. Leland seemed to track her thinking. “I’ll take every precaution to make sure you don’t have to see him.  We keep him separated from the main inmate population anyway, but we’ll double the guard.  I won’t ask you to go anywhere near him.”

That went a long way towards reassuring her, but there was one more precaution she wanted to take.

“I’m bringin’ Batman with me,” she told Leland.

The Arkham psychiatrist took that in stride. “I’ll contact Commissioner Gordon, just to keep up appearances.  Let him know to expect a call.”

Harley couldn’t help the wry smile that stretched across her face.  Her life was very complicated.

***

The big day arrived with a great deal of trepidation on Harley’s part.  She’d spent the better part of a couple weeks reviewing schematics, personnel rosters, security protocols, and all manner of other miscellaneous documents.  The irony that the very Asylum that had once held Harley as an inmate was now providing her with this amount of information about their inner workings was not lost of her.  She couldn’t imagine what Dr. Leland must have said to convince the Board of Directors to allow her such access.  She knew Bruce had been required to recuse himself from the discussion because of his personal connection to Harley.

The problem was, abstract information wasn’t enough.  She could do a fair bit with blueprints and assorted documents, but to be truly effective, she needed to be there personally.  She had to walk the halls, look at the camera placements, talk to the guards, otherwise she wouldn’t truly understand what was working and what needed to be changed.

Bruce was to pick her up in front of the Manor, despite the fact that she could easily leave the Cave with him.  However, they couldn’t risk it, in case someone happened to be watching the Manor, and wondering how Harley had left.  It was all very silly, and Damian didn’t understand their logic at all.  Harley had given up on trying to explain after the fourth or fifth attempt.

She was not dressed comfortably, even considering her expanding waistline.  Bruce had designed, at considerable expense, a Kevlar lined bodysuit that accommodated her swollen stomach.  Titanium plates were layered at strategically vulnerable points under the fabric, which made moving even more difficult.

At the appointed hour, she went out front to wait for Bruce to arrive.  Alfred accompanied her, fidgeting with her outfit.

“Stop fussing, Alfred,” she told him. “It’s gonna be fine.”

He spared a moment from checking the plates over her stomach to arch a skeptical eyebrow. “I’m sure I don’t need to tell _you_ of all people how easily things can go wrong at that place.”

She shrugged. “Sure, but I was usually the one makin’ ‘em go wrong in the first place.”

“All the same, I’d rather not take any chances.”

Harley smiled, unable to bring herself to be irritated with Alfred.  Ever they’d found out she was pregnant, he’d become almost as overprotective as Bruce himself.  He’d almost fainted from shock when they’d told him and had then excused himself to a far corner of the Manor on some made up chore.  When he’d returned several hours later his eyes were red and he sounded like he had a bad cold.  Since then he hardly left her out of his sight, even going so far as to insist on driving her everywhere she went.

The attention would have been stifling, except she knew why his eyes darted to and fro, assessing each passerby as if they were a possible threat, checking corners and monitoring the entrances and exits of every building they entered.  Alfred may not have worn his guilt on his sleeve the way Bruce did, but it was there nevertheless.  She couldn’t begrudge him a little paranoia.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t like me to accompany you?” Alfred asked for the thousandth time after finishing his checks.

“I toldja already, I don’t think Dr. Leland would appreciate you murderin’ all the inmates just to keep me safe,” she said with a teasing smile. “Although I appreciate the sentiment.”

Just then the Batmobile roared into view, spinning around the driveway and coming to a halt in front of the door.

Alfred frowned. “I suppose you’re as safe as can be with Bruce.”

“That’s the spirit!  It’ll be fine,” Harley repeated, as much to convince herself as Alfred. “Don’t wait up, I got no idea how late we’ll be.”

Before she could leave though, Alfred wrapped her up in a tight, impromptu, hug. “Don’t take any chances, young lady,” he told her seriously. “I’ve waited far too long for all this nonsense to be over.”

She patted him on the cheek. “Don’t worry, Grandpa, we won’t get in any trouble.”

She waddled down the stairs and leveraged herself into the passenger seat of the Batmobile, struggling with the fact that neither the car nor her outfit were truly designed with pregnant women in mind.

“You better not be expectin’ a whole brood of little monsters, cuz I’m schedulin’ a vasectomy the second we get home,” she grumbled. “Or I might just take a scissors to you while you’re asleep.”

Bruce spared her a brief, patient smile.  It wasn’t the first time he’d heard this precise threat, and they both knew it wouldn’t be the last.

They didn’t speak much on the ride to Arkham.  Harley was too preoccupied with thoughts of what it would be like, back in that place.  Would it feel the same, even though she was returning as a free woman?  For a moment, as they passed the first sign cautioning drivers against picking up would be hitchhikers, she was transported back to the numerous times she’d been hauled back in this very vehicle.  She reached over to grip Bruce’s hand, just to reassure herself that this time was different.

Her breath hitched when she saw the wrought iron gateway with the ominous _Arkham Asylum_ framed over the top.  She remembered how, the very first time she’d walked through those gates, she’d been filled with excitement, determined to help as many people as possible.  Now, she wondered what she could possibly have been thinking.  This place had never been meant for rehabilitation, only containment.  Given some of its residents, it was an important mission, but she’d been delusional to think anything different.  The most you could hope from Arkham was to escape.

A guard buzzed them through the gate immediately; apparently the Batmobile got the VIP treatment.  Bruce drove straight up to the front of the main intake building, where Dr. Leland, an assortment of guards, administrators, and several other psychiatrists were waiting.

“Thank you both for coming,” Dr. Leland said once Bruce had helped her out of the car. “Again, we really can’t express how thankful we are for your help.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Harley said impatiently. “Let’s get this over with, I got a tub of ice cream and a couch waitin’ for me at home.”

Most of the assembled guards and psychiatrists looked put off by her cavalier attitude, but Dr. Leland just smiled. “Of course.  I thought we would start with intake.”

Dr. Leland led Harley into the ominous building, Bruce flanking her other side.  Two guards went ahead of them, two behind, while the psychiatrists and administrators trailed a little further back.

The Asylum had changed a lot in the three years since Harley’s release.  The walls and floors, once grimy and pocked with water damage, bullet holes, and bloodstains, were now spotlessly clean and gleaming.  The latest Wayne Tech security gates led them farther in, past checkpoints and nurses stations.

“You’re still usin’ an outdated cryptographic sequence,” she tossed back at them. “Fox released a new version two years ago.”

One of the administrators had the temerity to speak up. “We were worried about the cost of licensing the new software.  These have been effective so far.”

She spared him a single, sneering look. “And I bet the accountants’ll be happy about that when Riddler has their heads mounted on the wall.  You want cheap or you want effective?  You don’t get both.  ‘Sides, I’m pretty sure my husband won’t mind givin’ you a discount.  I seem to recall him bein’ a board member.  Didja even think to ask him?” The bashful looks they gave each other was all the answer she needed. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.  Any more stupid comments?”

There were none, so they continued, Harley breezing through the building, throwing out everything she saw, no matter how small.

“Your camera placement needs work here, you got about a fourteen-inch blindspot.”

“Too much clutter in this office, you wouldn’t be able to evacuate fast enough if somethin’ went wrong.”

“There’s a crack up in that corner a small mouse could fit through.  Come on people, it’s like you’ve never heard of Ratcatcher!”

“That guard’s one of Two-Face’s old crew.  He’s probably tryin’ to spring his boss.”

The last one caused the whole caravan to come to a screeching halt.  Everyone, including Bruce, looked at her in open shock.

“How do you know?” Dr. Leland asked.

“I broke his knee once and he’s still got the limp,” she replied calmly.

Bruce’s eyes flashed white. “Facial recognition isn’t picking up any matches.”

The guard in question was now looking at them nervously, aware he was under scrutiny.

“That’s cuz he had some heavy duty plastic surgery,” Harley explained. “See the scars right under the brow line?  Try a fingerprint analysis instead.”

“We run fingerprint checks when people apply,” Dr. Leland objected.

“Black Mask worked up these clever little fingertip covers a while back,” Harley said. “Flesh toned, totally impossible to spot unless you peel ‘em off.  They’d have fake prints to through off forensics.  Expensive though, meant for a single use.  He’s probably not wearin’ ‘em now.”

Bruce gave Leland a questioning look, to which she nodded.  He took a step in the direction of the now sweating guard, who immediately bolted for an exit.  In a flash, Bruce had him pinned, arms trapped behind his back.  Bruce held one of the now thrashing guard’s hands up to his visor for a brief moment.

“Kenneth Slattery,” he said to the onlookers. “Want for three counts of murder, ten counts of aggravated battery, twelve of robbery, all committed while working for Two-Face.”

“Call Gordon,” Leland said sharply to one of the guards who wasn’t currently being held down by Batman. “And have Rob and Eduardo come over.  We’ll put him in one of the holding cells until the cops come.

“Thank you,” she told Harley as they waited. “That could have ended very badly.”

Harley shrugged easily. “It’s what I’m here for, right?”

“Yes, it is.” Leland turned to one of the administrators. “Do you still have questions about why I brought her in?”

The administrator in question looked down, chastised.

Their little tour continued as Kenneth was hauled off, screaming dire threats against Harley as he went.  Harley smiled sweetly and waved, which just drove him to greater heights of ineffective, frothing rage.

The rest of the intake building was fairly uneventful by comparison.  Harley identified no fewer than three dozen issues that a smart villain could exploit, in addition to those that she’d noticed in reviewing the documents they’d sent her.

They slowed considerably once they moved to the building that actually housed the inmates.  This was mostly due to the need for Bruce and the guards to clear each new room they entered.  Still, this gave Harley plenty of time to analyze the smallest details of the prison.

She was particularly intrigued by the rather unique cell they’d designed for Riddler.

“How the hell’d you come up with this?” she asked, studying the intricate set of interlocking cubes, gears, and other mechanisms.

“I’m afraid we can’t take credit,” Leland said, her tone slightly stiff.

Harley looked at Bruce. “This was you?”

Bruce nodded. “You gave me the idea.  We had to stop letting him dictate the terms.”

Harley chuckled. “You sure as hell aren’t doin’ that.”

Edward Nigma’s cell had been transformed into a giant puzzle cube.  Inside, he was surrounded by nothing but riddles.  Computer riddles, logic riddles, mechanical riddles, riddles she didn’t even have names for.  At the moment, Nigma was feverishly working on several of them at once, his expression maddened and frantic.  From her perspective, though, Harley could see that several more puzzles were waiting, should he solve the ones he was currently engrossed with.  It was never ending, the cell designed to reconfigure to create new, ever more complex challenges.  For a moment, she wondered why he was even bothering, he had to know it was a futile effort.  Then it struck her…

“He can’t resist,” she remarked, wonderingly. “He’s too compulsive, he’s gotta prove he can beat it.”

“Even if it drives him completely insane,” Dr. Leland said bitterly.

“Guessin’ you don’t approve?” Harley asked the Arkham head.

“Our job is to help heal, not to make things worse,” Leland said, looking distastefully at the cell.

“You are healing, Doctor.” Bruce’s voice was soft. “There are ten million people outside these walls who can go on with their lives without people like him interfering.”

“Which is the only reason I agreed to it,” Leland responded. “That doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

“Well _I_ like it,” Harley said with a broad smile. “It’s just the kinda thing this asshole deserves.”

Dr. Leland frowned, but Harley paid no mind.  She was too busy enjoying the look of frustration on Eddie’s face as he solved one puzzle, only for another to take its place.

After Riddler, it was the rest of the supermax wing.  Harley had been dreading this, but there was no way to do her job effectively without surveying the cells of her old colleagues.  So, gritting her teeth, she steeled herself to get it over with.

The hall was just as she’d remembered it, a row of fifteen by ten cells with clear, bulletproof walls that ensured inmates could hide none of their activities from the guards.  Harley had spent three years in one such cell; the second on the left to be precise.  They weren’t pleasant memories.

“You really shouldn’t put ‘em all together like this,” she said, trying to focus on the job. “Too many things could go wrong if they start workin’ together.”

“You’re not the first to make that suggestion,” Dr. Leland said, with a glance at Bruce. “However, our concern is that they might instigate an uprising if allowed among the general population.”

Harley thought about it. “Yeah, I could see that.  Six of one, half a dozen of the other, I guess.  Still, I don’t gotta tell you to keep an eye on ‘em.”

To a one, the supervillains clustered against the walls of their cells to see Harley as she passed.  Their expressions ranged from incredulity, to shock, to downright rage, with only two exceptions.  Harvey Dent, aka Two Face, frowned at the sight of her, then flipped his coin. Harley didn’t see how it landed, but his head tilted ever so slightly to present the unscarred half of his face.

“Congrats, Doc.”

She smiled slightly, “Thanks Harv.” Leaning close to Bruce she muttered. “I guess Leland didn’t go for my suggestion?”

He shook his head minutely. “No.  He’s stuck with the coin, I guess.”

She shrugged. “You did what you could.  It’s all any of us can do.”

The other exception was Poison Ivy, who’s face reflected utter incredulity at the sight of an obviously pregnant Harley.  As their procession went passed, she arched an eyebrow, as if to say, ‘For real?’

Harley grinned widely, remembering the last time she’d been escorted past Ivy’s cell with the Batman next to her. “What are you lookin’ at, Red?”

Ivy gave a reluctant but heartfelt smile. “Give ‘em hell, Harley.”

Harley paused only once, at the end of the cellblock, in front of a familiar, empty room…

“We have him in solitary right now,” Leland told her softly. “You don’t even need to look at his cell if you don’t want to, he rarely makes an attempt anymore.”

Harley nodded and turned away.

They completed the tour without any more incidents, by which point their entourage had managed to fill up several notebooks with Harley’s suggestions for improvement.  As they neared the exit, Dr. Leland gave her coworkers a very pointed look, and they promptly fell over themselves offering Harley their profuse, insincere thanks.

Harley barely heard a word they said.  She couldn’t stop thinking about that empty cell, and the man who lived in it.  He was here in this building somewhere.  Thinking or doing who knew what…

“I want to see him,” she said abruptly, cutting off one of the psychiatrists.

Most of the people gathered around her looked confused, but Bruce and Leland knew exactly who she was talking about.

“I thought you didn’t want to?” Leland said, trying to cover her surprise.

“I don’t,” Harley replied truthfully. “But I think I gotta.  I think I’ll regret it if I don’t.”

She could see Leland switch from Arkham mode to therapist mode as she gazed intently at Harley.  Finally, she nodded and turned to issue instructions to one of the guards.  While everyone else peppered her with questions about what was going on, Bruce pulled Harley to the side.

“Are you sure about this?” he asked quietly.

“Hell no,” she said with a humorless chuckle. “It’s the _last_ thing I wanna do.  But I can’t go through my life bein’ afraid all the time.  I gotta see him.”

Like Dr. Leland, Bruce studied her seriously before responding. “If you’re sure.  Do you want me with you?”

She shook her head. “I need to do this myself.”

She could tell he wasn’t happy about it, but he accepted her decision.

Leland took them to one of the patient consultation rooms, heavily modified from Harley’s time as a member of the Arkham staff.  There were two chairs, made of thick steel and bolted to the floor so that they couldn’t be used as weapons.  A clear barrier of the same kind as the supervillains’ cell doors divided the room in half, presumably to prevent any sort of contact between the patient and psychiatrist.

“Stay seated until you’re read to leave.” Leland was back in her role as Arkham head. “A guard will be here with you the whole time.  Don’t attempt to approach the divider, don’t make any sudden movements.  If it looks like he’s getting violent, we’ll pull you immediately, regardless.  I’ll be watching over the camera the entire time.  If I feel like it’s going poorly, I’ll have both of you removed.” She looked at Harley sternly. “Do you understand?”

Harley didn’t trust herself to speak, but she nodded.  Her stomach, already unsettled most days, felt like it was doing backflips.  Bruce leaned in close, not appearing to care that he was showing far more concern than he should be for a supposedly impartial companion.

“I’ll be right outside,” he said. “Call, and I’ll be in, I don’t care what the rest of them say.”

Harley did her best to give him a reassuring smile, but it felt more like a grimace.  Bruce, Leland, and the others withdrew, leaving just Harley and the guard.

Harley sat down in the chair and did her best not to fidget while she waited for them to bring in the Joker.  The guard standing in the corner didn’t much help matters, but she couldn’t blame them for being cautious.  She tried to put him out of her mind and prepare herself.

But there was no real way to prepare.  She hadn’t seen the Joker in over five years.  Even during her time at Arkham, they had kept them carefully separated, partially to protect her from reprisals, partially to prevent a relapse of her obsession.  What would she feel when she saw him?  Would she be revolted?  Enticed?  Afraid?  There was no way to anticipate.

Before she could figure it out, the door on the other side of the barrier opened.  A guard backed slowly into the room; a pistol raised.  He positioned himself with a clear sightline before jerking his head slightly.

Then, with a swooping sensation in her stomach, she saw him.  He was wrapped up in a straitjacket, and his hair was thinner, but otherwise he hadn’t changed at all.  The same washed out white skin and vivid green hair.  Even wrapped up and restrained, there was a sense of latent energy, like no room could contain him.  It was al exactly as she’d remembered.

Except for the smile.  The smile that hardly ever left his face, even when Batman thwarted yet another of his plans, was gone.  In its place was a scowl that contorted his features even more than usual.  There was no hint of his malicious cheer, his playful arrogance.  There was nothing but pure, twisted evil.  The truth of who he’d always been.

His hateful glare never left her as they maneuvered him to the other chair and hooked up ankle chains to the floor to prevent him getting away.  He was taking in every detail of her appearance, the way she had his, and she wondered how much he noticed the differences.  Because while he was the same as always, she knew she had changed considerably.  A bit of gray had started creeping into her hair, and the lines around her eyes had deepened.  Not to mention the swell of her stomach.

She could tell when he registered her pregnancy because his eyes flashed with incandescent rage.  Not because _he’d_ ever wanted her, she knew, but because it meant that someone else had.  She’d found another, and he didn’t know that they were incredibly happy, but it didn’t really matter.  Because he’d always thought that she was _his_.  Mind, body, and soul.

She didn’t know how long they sat there in silence, staring at each other.  It could have been a minute or an entire day.  At last, he sneered, the expression a distorted reflection of his old smile.

“Got any questions for me, Doc?”

In all the years she’d spent with him, she’d never heard such venom, such concentrated hatred in his voice.  Or maybe she had, but had chosen to ignore it, like she’d ignored so many things about him for so long.

She’d thought repeatedly over the years about what she might say to him if she ever had the chance to see him again.  Would she rail against him, tell him how much he’d hurt her over the years?  She could ask why he’d done what he’d done, demand an answer for his cruelty.  She could ask if he’d ever loved her even a little bit, or if it had all been just an act.  Would she tell him all about her happy life, and how she’d moved past him?  She’d had a good laugh more than once imagining his expression if she just screamed, ‘Batman knocked me up!’ and ran away.

But now, sitting here across from him as she’d done so many times over the years, she found that none of the words she’d imagined were adequate.  She’d never be able to express the depth of how much he’d hurt her.  Nor would she ever truly be past him.  He’d always be with her, no matter what she did.  However, to her astonishment, she realized that there was absolutely nothing she could say to him or he to her that would matter in the slightest.

She’d spent more than enough of her life around the Joker.  And she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she didn’t need to waste one more moment in his presence.

She stood up. “No.  I don’t.”

She walked to the door, and it opened immediately.  Bruce was waiting on the other side, his expression concerned.  She restrained herself from jumping into his arms, keeping up the charade for the time being, but gave him smile to let him know she was alright.  Leland rejoined them a moment later, coming out of the nearby security stall.

“Did you get what you hoped for?” the doctor asked, looking clinical.

Harley shook her head. “Nope.  Better.  I got what I needed.”

Dr. Leland allowed her professional mask to crack long enough to smile at Harley. “I’m glad.  Thank you, Harley.”

Harley leaned forward to give Leland a tight hug. “Thank _you_.”

To her surprise, Leland also gave Bruce a swift hug.  Harley saw her whisper something in his ear, but she couldn’t hear what it was.

They didn’t exactly rush from the building, but Harley was eager to be gone.  Only once they were safely ensconced in the Batmobile did she turn to Bruce.

“What’d she say to you?”

Bruce pulled off his mask, the dark tint of the car’s windows making it safe for him to show his face. “She told me to take care of you.”

Harley smiled and slipped her hand into his. “You better not disappoint her.”

He looked at her with the tender, loving expression that never failed to melt her heart. “I don’t intend to.”

She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek before twisting around just in time to see the Asylum disappear behind them.

Then she turned to look forward.

To the future.

A bright, shining future with her Knight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to take a second to thank everyone who's read along with this story. I genuinely can't overemphasize how much your responses have meant to me. This fic started as a random one off, and I never imagined that it would become what it has. I hope you all enjoyed the ride as much as I did!
> 
> I plan to do a little more featuring these characters in the future; nothing as large as this fic, but some short stories featuring events that I didn't have the opportunity to explore here. I can't say when I'll get around to them, I tend to like alternating fandoms a bit.
> 
> In the meantime, I have a list of my works in progress up on my profile. Drop me a comment if there are any stories you're particularly interesting in seeing. I can't guarantee which ones I'll get to next, but it'll help to know if there are ideas people are more excited about.
> 
> Til next time!


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